Page 94 of Our Long Days
I tighten my hold. “Dex, I’m fine. I promise.”
“Nothing about this is fine, Florence.” Gently he raises my injured arm. Though the three-inch gash isn’t deep, the area around it is mottled and grazed. “This should never have happened.”
“It was an accident. There was no way you knew that was going to happen.”
He shakes his head. “It could’ve been avoided.”
It could’ve been avoided if I wasn’t there.
Poisonous thoughts that haven’t reared their ugly heads for weeks make themselves known.
You’re a distraction. That’s why he’s not told anyone about you. His dirty little secret.
You reap what you sow, and currently, I’m standing in a field, wildflowers wilting, grass yellow, soil bone dry, as I question everything.
The once-tiny bud that’s blossomed and bloomed under his care and affection shrivels.
Momentarily confused, he takes that as his opportunity to slip out of my grasp.
“Why did you call my mom?”
He moves us to the side, allowing a hospital porter to pass by.
“Dex. Why did you call my mom?” I repeat. “I’m old enough to not need a responsible adult anymore. Bringing me here wasn’t necessary. We can?—”
“I think you should sleep at your mom’s tonight. Rest your arm and get a good night’s sleep.” His Adam's apple bobs with a deep swallow. “Take tomorrow off. Help Jo with the wedding.”
Rejection needles its way under my skin. “I want to work. I want totalk.” His stubble scratches my palm as I cup his cheek. “Talk to me. Please.”
His sad eyes dance around my face, as if he’s cataloging every freckle and line to memory. “You deserve the world, Florence Sadler.”
He presses his lips to my forehead then walks away. Without a backward glance, he disappears through the automatic doors leading outside.
He leaves.
Leaves me.
Minutes pass. I stare at the stretch of corridor. Doctors and nurses pass in a blur. The first tear falls.
I drag myself back to the examination room, avoiding my mom’s quizzical gaze while the nurse applies the Steri-Strips and a waterproof bandage. My mother isn’t stupid, and on thedrive to her house, she gives me the space to brood. Covered in dried blood and dirt, I fish my phone out of my bag and hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen.
I don’t want to wallow in my childhood room, and while I love her, my mom’s company isn’t what I need right now.
Patrick’s at the restaurant working a late shift, so there’s no risk of him seeing me in this state. Without overthinking it, I send out an SOS.
“Can you drop me off at Jo and Pat’s place, please?” I ask from the passenger seat of her car.
I’m thankful she fights the maternal urge to fuss over me and changes route. We pull up outside their house and she stares at me with knitted brows. “Are you going back to the A-frame tonight?”
Jo appears in the doorway, waving, a similar shade of concern on her face.
I stare down at the silver ring Dex gifted me, pressing my finger into the edge of the band until it imprints into my skin. “I’m not sure.”
She lets me leave without any further questions. Johanna, the mother hen she is, wraps me in a hug when I reach the top of the steps.
In less than twenty minutes, the rest of the cavalry arrives. A livid Aly steps into the house first, mumbling something about “Stupid men and their stupid egos”. Quinn retrieves a pack of wet wipes from her purse and cleans me up. Harriet stands guard. From what, I’m not sure.
They don’t even know why I’m sad, but that doesn’t stop them.
