Page 60 of This Life and All the Rest
The sentence makes me uneasy. It feels ominous, but I don’t know why. I put my palm gently to her cheek, rubbing my thumb over the wetness from her tears.
I want to kiss her. Even now, especially now, I want her.
“Nicolette is my physical therapist,” I tell her, setting the record straight. One less thing for her to feel guilty about. One less thing for her to hold against me.
“Physical therapist? What? Why?”
Her eyes narrow with confusion and I drop my hand, clenching it into a fist at my side.
“Busted my femur about six months ago when my helicopter went down,” I say, trying like hell to sound casual. If I think too hard about it, the flashbacks come. I don’t need that right now. “Nic came by tonight because I’ve missed my last two PT sessions, and it’s important that I don’t miss a third. She’s been doing me a favor and letting me do them in the evenings since Trent is in the hospital.”
Lennon doesn’t say anything. She just blinks at me slowly with her brows scrunched, trying to make sense of everything in her head.
“I’m not sleeping with her,” I say clearly. “I’veneverslept with her.”
I let her process my words. I wait to see how she’ll react. If she’ll ask questions. She doesn’t. Her eyes dart to her feet and she bites her lip, but she doesn’t say a word.
Evelyn starts to fuss in the living room, and we both look toward the noise.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Lennon quietly. She nods.
I walk to the crib slowly. Each step taking me farther and farther from Lennon. My sense of dread spikes, then sadness. Because I already know what’s about to happen. I know her better than she knows me.
I rub Evie’s back, give her a pacifier, and walk slowly back to the hall.
Lennon is already gone.
Once again, she’s chosen to leave me. She ran. Things get too hard, and she runs.
But I fucked it up this time. I provoked her. I was downright mean with some of the things I said, and then I couldn’t fucking keep my hands off her.
Talk about emotional whiplash.
I sped up when I should have gone slow. I devoured when I should have savored.
I walk back to Evie’s crib and make sure the video monitor is on, then grab the receiver off the counter. I bought this about a month ago so I could do work in the office downstairs while Evie napped in my apartment. I’m fucking thankful for it now.
I grab my pack of cigarettes from the drawer in my kitchen, then take them and the baby monitor downstairs to the parking lot. I light a cigarette, take a drag, and tell myself it’s enough.
It’s not.
I know throwing and sketching won’t do it either, so I take out my phone and call Casper.
“Dick,” he rasps, “do you even know what time it is?”
“Sorry. You wanna box?”
“No.” He groans, and I smile when I hear the rustling of bed sheets. “I do not want to fucking box.”
I hear someone’s hushed voice say something in the background, but I can’t make out what.
“Sorry,” Casper whispers on the other end. “I’ll be back later.”
“You got company?” I ask, and Casper snorts.
“Like you care.” I’m grinning like an idiot. I can hear his keys jangle and a door open. “You can have an hour. That’s it. And I swear to god, if you tell Nic—”
“I won’t tell her,” I say quickly. “Thanks, Casper.”
