Page 45 of A Fighting Chance

I suck in a breath and decide to go for complete and total honesty. “I have no idea.” With that, I exhale.

Fifteen

Lyla

Talking to Gentry is easy,comfortable. Familiar, even. The conversations flow effortlessly, and the lulls between don’t make me a mess of anxious knots. I don’t spend it awkwardly, wondering what I should say next, which is a relief. After we talk on the porch for a while longer, Gentry walks me to my bedroom door.

We stand there a moment, not really knowing how to navigate this.

Doing things in reverse—sleeping together andthengoing on a date—has confused this particular part of the evening. I tell him I had a good time and he tells me he hopes we can do it again, to which I agree. He slowly wraps his arms around my middle and brings me closer to him. I breathe him in, his scent.

In truth, I’d spent the entire time we were on the swing bringing the sleeve of his sweater to my face and inhaling.

Now, he takes my mouth gently, kisses my lips, parts them with his tongue. The kiss lingers, just long enough to teeter on the edge of something more intense, something that could have us both unravel our carnal desires. We’re standing on the precipice of thewantour bodies radiate.

All we need to do is take a step.

But he pulls back—smoothing my hair, nipping at my bottom lip. His embrace gently recedes, until he’s no longer holding me. He leans in close and whispers goodnight against my ear.

And then he’s gone, off to his room, while I remain outside mine.

I go inside and sit on the edge of my bed, replaying the moments in detail over and over, my face nuzzled into the sleeve of his sweater. Again, I inhale his scent, glad he didn’t ask for it back. I stand and remove the sweater so I can take off my dress and everything else. Then, without shame, I slip the sweater back over me.

I want to be near him. I want to be wrapped up in him. The restraint he’d shown though gives me pause.

Perhaps tonight isn’t the night to go exploring him again.

Perhaps we need to pull it back a bit.

Just as I doze off, Harper runs into my room, shaking me by my shoulders. “Lyla! Lyla, wake up!” she says, her voice firm. She isn’t yelling, not really, but almost.

Jostled awake, I rub my face and sit up. “What’s wrong?” I ask, concern overpowering sleep with every passing second.

“It’s Paw,” she says.

Those two simple words are enough to wake me the rest of the way up.

Now fully awake, I uncover my legs and go on auto-pilot. I pull on leggings but don’t bother to change my shirt or put on a bra. I’m pulling on my socks and shoes while she fills me in.

“I think he’s having a heart attack. We called for an ambulance. Nan is with him,” she says.

I’m now running down the stairs, hearing his voice echoing in the distance between us. I navigate the halls to my grandparents’ room and enter.

Paw is sitting up and I don’t know if that’s good or bad. He’s clutching at his chest and left arm, and Iknowthat’s bad. His breathing is ragged and shallow.

I run to kneel in front of him. His eyes are wild with pain and he looks scared. I’ve never seen Paw scared. Nan’s gripping his hands, whispering calming words to him. I hear noise behind me and turn to see Harper and Gentry entering the room. Gentry circles around to Paw’s side and clutches his shoulder. We all look at one another, unsure what to do, until someone suggests that he lie down. Though everything is happening so suddenly I don’t even register who says it.

I hear the ambulance as we lower him to the bed and Gentry runs from the room, presumably to guide them to us so there’s no further delay. He returns with the paramedics only a few minutes later, although it feels like an eternity. Watching my Paw’s face twist in agony makes time stand still. The EMTs enter and take over. We all step back and they begin asking Nan questions, their voices becoming watery to me. My vision blurs.

This can’t be happening.

Gentry holds me, wrapping his arms around my sides and tucking me into him. I stand there—motionless—and let him. Harper comes to my side and reaches for my hand, taking it into hers and squeezing it tightly. We watch them hook things up to him, transfer him to the stretcher, then hook more things up to him. They call out numbers and codes to one another.

I don’t have a clue what any of it means.

They exit the room with him strapped to the gurney and we all follow them out. Nan climbs into the back of the ambulance. Or rather, Gentry hoists her up into it. Then the three of us immediately turn toward Gentry’s truck.

We climb in as quickly as we can. I sit in the middle, my mind too far gone with worry to note Gentry’s proximity this time. Because it doesn’t matter.

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