Page 183 of Rush of Jealousy

Penny walks over quietly to Graham and they embrace. I can tell he is afraid to touch her. Maybe worried to set her off? His hands tremble as he pats her gently on her back. It melts my heart to see the relief in his eyes—probably for the fact that the therapy center is making progress with her. Nic joins as well, ruffles her hair, and gives her a lopsided smile. When her eyes catch mine, she looks to the men with confusion.

“Penny, this is Angie McFee. My girlfriend,” Graham answers her unspoken question.

“Wow, girlfriend? Why didn’t you tell me that you had a girlfriend when you visited a few weeks ago?”

“Probably because at the time our relationship was working out some kinks,” he says, looking over at me to give me a flirty wink. “It took Angie some time to learn not to resist my charm.”

I glare at him.Behave in front of your family, Graham!

“She’s just lovely, isn’t she?” Donna says cheerfully, making my cheeks heat. “Penny, Angie is studying English at River Valley.”

At the mention ofEnglish, Graham growls so deep into his throat that if I wasn’t standing right beside him, I would have missed it.

“Are you guys all going to play football?” Penny asks. I see the glimmer of hope flash in her eyes at the thought of doing something that must be a tradition in the Hoffman household.

“You can watch,” Graham says sternly. “Angie can keep you company.”

Hey! I press my foot onto his when no one is looking.

Penny puts her hands on her hips and taps her foot. “Why just watch?”

Penny is slightly taller than Donna and has beautiful long auburn hair, much lighter than her oldest brother’s. She is stunning with piercing blue eyes and barely visible freckles on a backdrop of the purest porcelain skin.

Graham’s forehead wrinkles, and I can tell he is wanting to give in. But how can he call the shots—all the damn time?

“Come on, Penny,” I say, “I have an outfit you can borrow that is fine if you get dirty.”

For the first time since meeting her, I see a genuine smile spread across her face. Even her eyes light up.

“That sounds great,” she says, sticking her tongue out at Graham, who cannot decide whether to congratulate or strangle me.

Penny follows me up the stairs into Graham’s room, and I rummage through my belongings until I find a similar outfit to what I have on. This time the sweatshirt says “Girls Do It Better.”

“These sweatshirts are awesome. Are they custom?”

“I ordered them online; however, as soon as I collect enough money in my savings account, I’m going to buy one of those heat presses so I can make my own shirts and jazz up mugs and water bottles.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun. If you open one of those sales shops online, I’ll be your first customer.”

“Thank you,” I say with a smile.

“I should be thanking you.”

“For what?”

“Ever since I was,”—she pauses—“you know, my entire family has been treating me like a dying flower that just needs to be drowned in water. I am fragile now to them, and I just want to forget sometimes and have things go back to the way they were. So thank you for lending me the clothes and not treating me like I’m broken.”

A sadness washes over her, and I can’t help but see the similarities between us. Her dull and lifeless eyes are reflected back to me and once were my own. After the car accident, I lingered in the dark place for a while. When I finally climbed up in search of the light, it was an adjustment to get myself assimilated back into normal life. Moving away helped to separate myself from those who had preconceived expectations on how I was supposed to act posttrauma.

“Do you ever wish that your mind would shut up for a few minutes and let you vacation to another place where everything is functioning in harmony?” I ask.

Penny sits on the end of the bed, looks down at her hands, and then back up at me. “All the damn time.”

“It’s okay to stay in that place longer than a few minutes. It’s about survival. And knowing that you’re stronger than you realize.”

“I hope Graham deserves you,” she says sadly.

I furrow my brow at her statement.

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