Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I look away, the band wrapped around my chest threatening to snap.
“You say you’re selfish,” she says. “But you somehow found out that my insurance denied rehab after my first surgery, and you set up a blind trust, and paid for it anonymously. For two years.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “I never could have afforded the care if it hadn’t been for you. I might not have walked again, or fed myself, or brushed my teeth. But you, Mr. Selfish, made that happen for me without wanting any credit for it.”
She weeps again, tears forming streams down her cheeks. I cough, sniffling back emotions that I don’t want to handle right now.
I had no idea this would be her response. I was sure Liza hated me because of the accident. I came to see her in the hospital a week after the wreck, and she screamed at me to leave and never come back. So I didn’t. But maybe I should have.
“Why did you decide to come here and see me?” Liza asks.
I shove my hands in my pockets. “You asked me to, and I thought it was the least that I could do for you.” I pause, nibbling my bottom lip. “And I was hoping I could find some closure. I’m … I’m tired, Liza.”
I’m tired of fighting for myself. I’m tired of feeling so hollow, feeling so bound … yet so utterly alone.
She holds her arms wide, and I hesitate before sitting on her bed again and letting her hug me. The contact breaks me. I cover my face with my hand and cry quietly, relieved to have found some relief from the guilt that’s crushed me for so long.
I may never be able to get closure from my parents’ death, but it is easier to internalize. If my father couldn’t make it, I sure as hell wouldn’t have done him any good. I just would’ve died beside him. That might’ve saved Mom, but she would’ve never been okay again without Dad. I know, in the deepest part of my heart, that Mom would’ve chosen to go out just like she did—in the middle of the night in Dad’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” I say, sniffling as I sit upright. Liza offers me a tissue, and I take it from her. “I feel like I let you and Caroline both down, and I’m sorry.”
She pats my shoulder. “I’m sorry for not talking to you about this before now. It wasn’t fair of me to let this pain fester in your soul for this long.”
“You were kind of busy getting your body screwed back together,” I say, grinning sheepishly.
“Hey, it should be fun going through a metal detector if I ever fly again. Can you imagine how that thing will light up?”
Her smile makes me chuckle—and it might be the first real, true, free laugh since the wreck.
“So tell me, what’s your life like?” she asks. “Do you have a wife? Children? I see you’re still quite the rugby star.”
I roll my eyes, making her laugh. “No kids, no wife. But there is a woman who I’m serious about, and that’s one of the reasons I came here, if I’m being honest with you.”
“Why?”
“I needed to be able to make peace with this. This woman, her name is Astrid, she deserves the best of me. And I think I stopped being the best of me the night Caroline died.”
It wasn’t just that Caroline died, but also because it created a Caroline-sized hole in Liza’s life … who also lost her dreams. And I haven’t been able to let go of that guilt. But I need to.
It’s time.
She leans back against her pillows, wincing. “From here on out, let’s make an agreement that we won’t assign blame for the accident. I’ll say it was God, and you can say it was snow or whatever makes you happy. But it wasn’t my fault, your fault, or her fault. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say, wobbling forward. It’s as if a weight has been pulled from my back suddenly, and I’m struggling to find my balance. A world without blaming myself for Caroline’s death—what kind of world will that be?
I grin softly. It’ll be a world with Astrid.
“You’ve given me my life back,” I say earnestly, searching Liza’s eyes. “I can’t thank you enough for that.”
“And you saved mine quite literally.”
I stand, a hundred pounds lighter, and smile down at Liza. “If you need anything, call me.”
“You are officially banned from helping me ever again,” she says, laughing. “Go take care of your woman. Send me a Christmas card, if you must, but that’s it.”
I turn toward the door with my chin tucked to my chest.
“Gray?”
My hand on the knob, I turn to Liza. She’s smiling at me.
“Thank you for coming,” she says. “I needed this as much as you.”