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 swallow, the action hot and nearly painful. It feels like I’m peeking into a room that I haven’t been invited into, but I can’t stop reading.
I was so angry with you for a long time. Blaming you was easier than blaming my sister, and it was easier than blaming the weather or the other driver. You were still living and breathing and hating you for the accident gave me a place to put my grief. But I saw you on television late one night doing an interview, and I saw the pain in your eyes. It was the kind of grief that those who have experienced it can identify. I lay in my hospital room and bawled my eyes out, praying for you. You were hurting this whole time, too. And instead of being angry at Caroline, you were figuring out how to take care of me, her baby sister. I’ve never felt so low and like such a bad person.
Tears stream down my cheeks, staining my shirt, mixing with the snot running out of my nose. I can barely make out the words anymore. My heart aches for Gray, for whoever is writing this letter—for whatever has happened. Something horrible and tragic. But what?
Caroline loved you, Gray. I don’t know how you feel about her now, and I hope this letter isn’t bringing up unwanted memories, but I want you to know that none of this was your fault. I hope you don’t carry around guilt for something you didn’t cause. You are a good man, Gray Adler. And I will always root for you and will be here if you ever want to talk.
Again, thank you. You’ve given me another shot at life, and I can never repay you. I had what I hope to be my final surgery and I’m leaving the rehabilitation facility next week. I want to leave this behind me and, to do that, I had to clear the air.
Love,
Liza
I hiccup a sob, and the paper falls from my fingers, joining the rest of the mess on the floor.
CHAPTER
THIRTY
Gray
“Sir, you can go back to Ms. Winter’s room,” the lady perched behind the reception desk says.
I stand, wiping my hands down my jeans, and nod. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Have a good day.”
I put one foot in front of the other and follow the signs to Room 656. Each step gets harder, and every breath is more difficult. I may as well have been tackled on the pitch because every muscle in my body aches. I might die here, and no one will know where to look for me.
Until I walked inside the building, I was certain that I had to do this. Moving on with Astrid meant finding closure for the sins of my past. If not, I’d carry this weight into our relationship and that would be the epitome of ruining her. I won’t ruin anyone else except maybe myself.
I take a deep breath and blow it out. Shoving all thoughts of Astrid out of my mind, I knock on the door to Room 656.
“Come in,” Liza’s voice calls out.
God, please be with me. I tap the handle and let myself in.
Liza looks up from a book and smiles as if she expects me to be a staff person. But when her eyes land on mine, everything changes. “Oh, Gray.”
“Hey.”
She drops the book, tears streaming down her face, and sobs into her hands.
My heart breaks, knowing I did this—that I’m responsible for this woman’s agony all this time later. I sit on the edge of the bed and wrap my arm around her, pulling her into my shoulder. Her dark hair bounces as she cries. It’s the same color as Caroline’s. I freeze, staring at the black strands, and feel my heart go from breaking to shattering.
I shouldn’t be here. Why did I do this?
You’re a fucking fool, Adler.
Liza pulls back, her cheeks streaked with mascara. She wipes her face with the backs of her hands and looks at me like I’m an apparition. I wish that were true. I’d happily disappear from this room and never come back.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, reaching for a tissue.
“That makes two of us.”
She chuckles sadly, drying her face. She looks older than I remember. There are scars down her arms and one on the top of her forehead. I can only imagine the others on her back and stomach … and on her soul.
The worst scars are always hidden.
“How are you?” she asks softly. “Are you okay? You look great.”
I lick my lips and look at the ceiling as shame and guilt threaten to knock me off the damn bed. It’s not fair that I’m here and looking great, when Liza is sitting in a rehab bed after her God knows how many surgeries and Caroline is in a wooden box six feet below the ground. I’d love for someone to explain that bullshit.