Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Someday she’ll understand.
29
Astaire
A hospital custodian mops the floor of Bennett’s room Friday afternoon.
Another one strips his sheets, whistling an unfamiliar tune.
I clear my throat. “Excuse me. The man that was here. Did they move him?”
The whistling woman shrugs. “Check the nurse’s station.”
My heartbeat whooshes in my ears as I trot down the hall and find a nurse in red scrubs hunching over a computer station. My mind runs through a hundred scenarios—some of them not so pretty. I couldn’t sleep last night, so I spent a solid hour researching heart transplants, statistics, life expectancies, complications …
I understand now why the man is so pessimistic about his condition.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for Bennett Schoenbach. He was here last night but he isn’t in his room. I was wondering if he was moved?” My gaze darts from her name badge to her computer to the coffee stain on her top.
She peers up, lips flat, and then she types a few letters into her keyboard and squints at the screen. “Discharged. Two hours ago.”
I thank her and make a beeline for the elevator, trekking the quarter-mile corridor to the parking garage at a complete loss for words.
I thought about him all day today, checked my phone every opportunity I had hoping there was an update or message, and in the end, I figured he was busy or resting and we’d catch up later tonight.
I gave him the benefit of the doubt because I was certain he’d keep me in the loop the first chance he got, because that’s what friends do.
As far as I know, I’m the only person who knew he was admitted yesterday—so why wouldn’t he tell me he was discharged?
It’s common courtesy.
This combined with the way he spoke to me after I brought him his dinner last night is a slap in the face.
By the time I get to my car, my mind is made up.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing at his door.
I knock three separate times before he finally opens it. His hair is combed and shower-wet, and a crisp white t-shirt clings to his broad shoulders while navy sweats hang off his narrow hips. His complexion has a healthier tint than it did last night and the woodsy scent of aftershave wafts off his damp skin.
“Just left the hospital.” I grip my purse strap and try to keep my voice calm. I didn’t come here to fight. “Would’ve been nice to know you’d been discharged.”
He doesn’t invite me in, in fact, he anchors himself in the doorway, elbow resting against the jam as he peers at me with a curious expression.
“You’re not my keeper, Astaire.”
I bite my tongue, swallowing what I really want to say. “I thought we were friends.”
Bennett exhales. “We are.”
“Then please explain to me why you’ve suddenly turned back into Mr. Hyde with zero explanation?” I throw a hand in the air, sniff an incredulous laugh. “Do you get irritable when you don’t feel well? Are you anxious? Is it something I said?”
He says nothing, which only sends my blood to a boil.
“Please help me understand.” I clasp my hands together.
“What’s the point?”
“What’s … the … point?” I feed his question back, emphasizing each and every word. “I guess there is none... I just … the past couple of weeks we’d been getting along so well, having fun … you were opening up to me, confiding in me … then last night I’m gone for all of an hour and when I get back, you’re a completely different person. It’d be nice to know where this is coming from.”
“I bet it would be … but unfortunately it still doesn’t matter.”
“You hate being vulnerable. You hate the idea of looking weak. You’re ashamed of your family. You’ve got this ironclad façade you place between yourself and the rest of the world,” I say. “I know those things about you. I’ve known them from the start. And yet, I rushed to your side the second you texted me last night.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I fold my arms across my chest.
“I think we’ve been getting ahead of ourselves the last couple of weeks.” He drags his fingers through his damp hair, lips pressed flat.
“We?” I ask. “We? Bennett, you invited me on a date. You took me shopping for your niece. You invited me to your house for dinner. You texted me your hospital room number, which I took as an invitation.”
“All right. Fine. I’ve been getting ahead of myself. Is that better?”
Not really. “What happened in that hour that flipped a switch in you? Something spooked you.”
“Nothing spooked me, Astaire.” He scoffs.
How dare I insult him by suggesting he’s afraid of something …
“You know … you’re the first actual friend I’ve had since I lost Trevor …” my voice fades, breaks, and I gather a deep breath. “I don’t know why you suddenly had a change of heart, but I think I at least deserve an explanation.”