Page 96 of Inarticulate

“Can we come inside?” Penelope broke the silence.

“Why?” Savannah addressed him. “If it’s not about the settlement, then there’s nothing else to discuss.”

“Quit the charade,” Penelope muttered, “and just let him explain.”

“The charade?” Savannah shot a glare at her cousin. “That’s rich.”

He pulled his cell, prepared to type whatever he could to gain enough trust to buy some time.

“Save it.”

He glanced up to see her eying his phone. There was no malice, no anger. She was devoid of emotion. Entirely flat.

“I don’t want any more explanations.”

Penelope sighed, long and pained and deep. “Don’t you care about what he’s been through?”

“What he’s been through?” Something formidable sparked to life in Savannah’s eyes. “Are you oblivious to whatyou’veputmethrough? What you put the staff through?Christ. How can you think I’d even want to speak to you after what you’ve done?”

“I felt the same way when you came back to Seattle. So please forgive me if I lack sympathy. But this isn’t about me. It’s about Keenan and how he risked his health to be with you. Didn’t you notice how tired he was from the drugs? How he—”

Fuck.He grabbed the crook of Penelope’s arm and gave her a squeeze of warning.

The woman who had become his closest confidant looked him in the eye. “I knew, Keenan. And I hated every minute of it. You put yourself through hell and you did it all for her.”

“You need to leave,” Savannah murmured.

Hell, yes, she did. Penelope wasn’t doing him any favors. He tightened his grip, pleading. “Go.” He released his hold and jerked his head toward the elevator. “Please.”

“She needs to understand,” Penelope continued. “Maybe then she’ll let go of her pride.”

“Go,” he mouthed again. This wasn’t about anyone else’s pride. Only his.

“All right.” She nodded, her eyes filled with regret. “I’m sorry. But please tell her.” He watched her retreat down the hall, his courage leaving with her.

Tension surrounded him. It was thick and tangible in the air. Nothing he did would get rid of it. There were no words, no actions. Nothing.

“Drugs?” Savannah murmured.

He sighed and met her gaze. She’d leaned against the door jamb, her arms crossed protectively over her chest.

“Medication,” he whispered, ensuring his voice remained strong.

If he could continue to speak like this, he could tell her everything. She could have all his secrets. All his promises. He’d never considered the ability to sing or whisper as a saving grace. He still didn’t because it didn’t change a thing in the professional world. But he’d do anything today. He’d whisper to Savannah until his dying breath if he had to.

“Those last weeks, you were always exhausted. Was that from the medication?”

He inclined his head. The same side effects had plagued him as a child, when his father had tried to medicate the stutter out of him with Xanax. Lethargy, nausea, and insomnia were all he got out of it. Both times the treatment failed.

“What was it meant to do?”

“Lessen the stutter,” his voice was barely audible. “Make it easier for me to face you when I finally explained.”

“You were going to tell me?”

He looked into those hazel eyes and gave an honest shrug. “I don’t know. I wanted to.”

She released an impassive breath of laughter.

---