Chapter 18
Eighteen
Henry
Earlier the same day…
I drive myself to the foundation this morning, and I make it without any headache or blurred vision.
Mom wasn’t happy. Dad was a little better after I did okay the past couple of days at work.
But I have to do something, even if working is more tiring than usual.
It’s better than the silence of the ranch house that vibrates in my bones. I can’t sit at Mom’s kitchen table one more morning, pretending to read while I count the seconds between my heartbeats and ask myself why a week feels like a year when your life suddenly has no shape.
I need shape.
The Steel Foundation gives me that.
As soon as I hit my office, my cousin is there once more.
“You here again?”
“Where else would I be?”
“You know where. Home. Resting.”
“Your concern is noted.” I slide into my chair and wake the screen. “Go do whatever it is you do here, Bradley.”
“What I do here is keep my idiot cousin from face-planting in a donor meeting.” He taps his finger on my desk. “Seriously. Two hours. Tops.”
“Eight,” I say again and click into the first proposal.
I answer three emails. Then eight more. At ten a.m., I hop on a call with a rural hospital that needs a grant for mental health services. At ten thirty, I sign five letters thanking people whose checks made last month possible and think about how money is both everything and nothing.
I open the spreadsheet that maps dollars against need and start shifting cells like I’m playing chess. The numbers line up.
At least some things in this world make sense. I can always count on numbers. They never lie. They never leave you for a surgical seminar after you tell them you can’t be in a relationship with them.
Except I guess those numbers line up, too, when I think about it.
Damn.
I bury myself back in the work, desperate to keep all thoughts of Tabitha at bay.
Brad appears in my doorway at noon with a sandwich from the deli on the corner. “Eat. Or I’m calling Aunt Marjorie.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I say, but I take the sandwich. “Thanks.”
Brad leans on the doorjamb. “Look, man. You’re good at this. At moving money, fixing things. But you’re not fixing you by pretending you’re a spreadsheet.”
“I’m not pretending anything,” I say around a third bite.
He rakes his gaze over me. “Your pupils say otherwise. Also your skin. And your charming personality.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Fuck off.”
He crosses his arms. “For the love of God, Henry, it’s Friday. Go home. Nobody will take your man-card.”
“Fuck off,” I say again.
He rolls his eyes again and leaves. I get ready to take another call when my cell phone buzzes.
Angie? Why is she calling me on her honeymoon? We talked briefly after my surgery, but I told her not to worry and enjoy her trip.
I tap my phone. “What up, sis?”
A pause. “What up?”
Yeah, that didn’t sound like me. But I’m not really me at the moment. I haven’t been since the Ralph situation.
“I told you to enjoy your honeymoon,” I say. “Not check up on me.”
“I haven’t been.”
“But you’ve been calling Mom.”
“Well…”
“Don’t deny it. She told me. Go. Off with you. Ski the Alps or whatever it is you’re doing there.”
“I’ve been thinking…”
“If it’s about anything other than your new husband, then think again.”
She chuckles. “You’re more like yourself, big brother. You seem…better.”
“I’m good. I have a new lease on life after the accident.” It’s not a lie. Not really. I am grateful to be alive.
A pause. Then, “I talked to Tabitha.”
I close my eyes, and there she is. Hair cascading around her shoulders, those gorgeous amber eyes that seem to be able to see right through me.
The way she looked at me the night we slowed down, like she couldn’t decide if I was worshiping her or taking her apart, and she didn’t care which as long as I didn’t stop.
I didn’t want to stop. Not then. Not now.
“Oh?” I finally say.
“Yeah. And I don’t know what went on between you two, Henry. I mean, I have an idea, but she didn’t elaborate.”
“Ang, this isn’t something I’m comfortable talking to you about.”
“I know. But I’ll be home soon, and…”
“And what?”
“Nothing, I guess. How are you?”
“Good. I’m back at work. I’m driving and doing well. The headaches are much better. Just a couple of ibuprofen when I need them. And I’m only sleeping at night. My energy is pretty much back.”
“I’m glad, Henry. But you still need to relax. Your body has been through so much, and it’s healing.”
“I’ve had enough relaxing.” Mostly because it only leads to thoughts of Tabitha.
More so than Ralph Normandy lately, which I guess is a good thing.
“What about the house in Dillon?” she says. “No one’s there, and you could grab Zach and relax for the weekend.”
“Mom would have a fit if I were out of her sight for a whole weekend,” I say dryly.
That gets another chuckle out of her. “I suppose you’re not wrong.”
I lean back in my desk chair. “Though it would be nice to be alone for a few days. No hovering.”
“Yeah,” she agrees. “You should go. Can you handle the drive?”
“It’s about three hours. Probably more than the docs would like, but I’d be fine.”
“You should follow what your doctor says,” Angie says.
“Yeah, I should, I suppose. But now that you mention it, the cabin sounds great.” I check my watch. “If I leave now, I’ll make it before dinnertime. I’ll have to go home and grab some stuff.”
“Would you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“If you go, text me when you arrive safely. I can’t have Mom blaming me if something goes wrong. I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“I’m actually glad you did, sis. It sounds great.”
“Okay. But don’t forget to text me.”
“I won’t. And don’t you forget to enjoy the last few days of your honeymoon.”
“I won’t. You take care of yourself, okay? Please?”
I smile into the phone. “I always do. One way or the other.”
Those words catch in my throat. Because I haven’t been taking care of myself. Sure, I’ve recovered well from the accident, and the headaches are nearly gone, but I still haven’t completely recovered from…
I sigh. Don’t want to go there.
“Love you, Ang.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
The cabin. Two nights. Maybe three. No meetings, no emails, no Mom hovering with a casserole. Just quiet. Trees. Zach.
Sounds fucking great, to be honest.
Our cabin in Dillon is hardly a cabin. It’s a custom house that Dad bought years ago as an investment, originally to add to our portfolio, but we ended up using it for respite only. It’s where one of us goes when we need to escape the family, the ranch, the Slope.
I haven’t been there since last year. I thought about going after I decided to renovate my place, maybe just stay there instead of at Mom and Dad’s, but I couldn’t leave the foundation to Bradley. He has enough to deal with with Uncle Joe and the cancer.
But for a weekend?
Hell, yes.
I stand and walk into Brad’s office. “Hey.”
He looks up from his work, his eyes sympathetic. “Hey, you doing okay?”
“I’m good. Just thought I’d drop by to tell you that I’m out of here.”
He nods curtly. “Good. You should be at home.”
“I’m heading to Dillon for the weekend. Just need to go home and pack and collect my dog.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Are you sure—”
I hold up a hand. “Please. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t tell me to relax and then tell me not to. The drive will be fine. I know it like the back of my hand.”
“Will you—”
I suppress an eye roll. “Yes, God, I’ll text you when I arrive safely.”
He nods. “Okay. And Henry?”
“Hmm?”
“Love you, man.”
“Love you too.”
After the short drive back to my parents’ place, I head to my room and pack a small bag.
My laptop glows on the desk where I left it this morning. The Francine folder is still open.
There’s the number.
There’s the photo of a showgirl in feathers with a smile that looks pasted on.
Maybe I’ll call her this weekend.
Maybe I won’t.
Like she said, she owes me nothing. And I owe her the same.
I pick up my phone.
Scroll through my contacts to another number.
Tabitha. I got the number from Sage during a weak moment while I was in the hospital.
I sit on the edge of the bed and let my head fall into my hands.
She didn’t come.
How can I blame her?
I haven’t called her. I chose to give her space. To respect her decision.
The door is open a crack. Zach nudges his way into my room and jumps up beside me.
“Feel like a weekend trip, buddy?” I ask.
He pants and licks my hand.
I rise, head to the kitchen, and pack a zippered bag full of kibble. “I know I promised you only Steel beef from now on, but this travels well.”
Anya walks in. “Do you need anything, Mr. Henry?”
“No, I’m good. Where’s my mom?”
“She went into town for a hair appointment.”
“Okay.” Good. I don’t have to tell her I’m leaving for the weekend. “Would you mind telling her that I’m going to our cabin in Dillon for the weekend? I’m taking Zach, and I’ll be back Sunday or Monday.”
Her forehead scrunches, but she doesn’t discourage me. “Uh…sure, I’ll tell her.”
I smile. “Don’t worry. She won’t kill the messenger. Tell her I’ll call when I’m safely there. And tell her I’m feeling good about this. That I need some time alone. To…work through some stuff.”
The drive winds through the mountains in long curves. The sky is a hard blue, and the air hums with cicadas. Pines rise in sharp green lines against reddish slopes, and the road dips through valleys that smell like sage and dust.
And I think about her.
About Tabitha.
The memory of her body beneath mine, her soft lips, her beautiful eyes gazing at me.
I grip the steering wheel harder, blink away the heat stinging my eyes. She’s not mine.
She made her choice.
By the time the cabin comes into view, I’m actually hungry. I’ll grill some burgers. There’s always Steel beef in the deep freezer. Tomorrow I’ll head to the market for supplies, but tonight burgers and my dog are all I need.
I park in back and kill the engine. The quiet that follows is absolute. No cars, no voices, just the whisper of wind through the pines and the faint scuttle of something small in the underbrush.
I sling my duffel over my shoulder, key in the code on the back door, and go inside.