Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“You got a good deal on it because everyone else interested in that color no longer has a driver’s license—or a pulse, for that matter.”
She gasps, and I can picture her jaw hanging low, eyes squinted, and shoulders hugging her ears. “Eric Steinmann, that’s just—”
“I love you, Anna.”
Shit. I wasn’t going to say it. Not yet.
But every time I exhale, I feel those words leave my chest in a tiny whisper. The only way I can breathe is by letting them out.
She says nothing.
“I’m sorry.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “I mean, I’m not sorry that I love you. I’m sorry if hearing those words imparts any sort of responsibility. It’s not a plea or a question. I expect nothing in return. It changes nothing. Okay? Dream big. Be a million times more responsible and successful than me. I mean … you already are.”
“Eric—”
“I think it’s my dad struggling to deal with my mom. And Shaun dealing with his sick mom. It’s got me thinking about life's fragility and our bonds with people.”
“Eric—”
“Giving and receiving love is important. It doesn’t even have to be in a romantic way. You know? It’s a confidence builder. Or it should be. You can be a little more awesome because you have so many people who love you.” I pick up my phone and head back to my bedroom, pacing like an addict.
“Eric—”
“I’m not saying how I feel about you isn’t romantic. It is, but the love isn’t needy. It’s like the kind of love you can take or leave. If you need it, great. If not, no big deal. Think of it as complementary shampoo and soap at a hotel.”
I’m a fucking idiot!
That was the worst declaration of love ever. I mean, EVER.
“Hey, Shaun. I’ll be off the phone in just a sec,” Anna says.
“I’ll let you go, Anna. Good talk. Say ‘hi’ to Shaun.”
I press end.
“Fuck …” I cock my arm back, readying to heave my phone against the wall. Then on a slow exhale, I deflate and gather my composure.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Anna
I keep my head bowed away from Shaun while I pull it together. Eric loves me—a word-fumbling, palpably nervous kind of love. And that put a big smile on my face, but when I got a glance at Shaun, he looked drained in every way possible. So now I must clear my throat and ditch the smile before lifting my head.
He plops down onto the sofa with a hard sigh. Long lines run across his forehead and spread out from the corners of his weary eyes.
“So your mom’s doing better. That’s good.”
His empty gaze locks onto the marble coasters stacked on the coffee table. After several slow blinks, he shakes his head. “She’s not,” he whispers.
“I thought you said—”
“I lied.”
“Why would you lie?”
His gaze inches its way to mine. “I wanted it to be true. So I put it into the world and prayed it would become a reality.”
“Then why are you here? If she’s not getting better …”
Shaun’s eyes redden. “I couldn’t watch her … die,” he whispers, choking on his last word.
His confession twists my heart into a knot, obliterating the joy I felt on the phone with Eric just minutes earlier. “Shaun.” I lower my chair and hop to the sofa next to him.
The muscles in his jaw clench while he shakes his head. He doesn’t want to cry in front of me. I don’t let it stop me from wrapping my arms around him in a big hug. Shaun’s been there for me at every turn. He’s seen me at my physical and emotional worst.
After a second of hesitation, he slides his arms around my waist, hugging me tightly while his body shakes. I don’t let go. Sometimes you don’t know what you need until someone shows you—forces you to share the burden. I can’t stop what’s happening to his mom, but maybe I can take some of the emotional burden. And maybe it will be enough for him to go back and be with her when she takes her last breath.
And if not, that’s okay too. Death isn’t a test or a lesson of anything. It’s the worst part of life. Period.
“Anna … I needed this.”
I hug him tighter.
“I needed you,” he whispers.
I smile.
He turns his head a fraction, pressing a kiss to my cheek.
I think of my life’s path. And for a split second, it crosses my mind that it wasn’t meant to be my time with Eric when I lived in Des Moines. Maybe my path brought me here to help Shaun at this very moment.
That split second ends when he kisses my cheek again, letting his lips linger. And again, he kisses my cheek, but this time it’s closer to the corner of my mouth. I stop breathing despite my racing heart. Everything in my head turns to mush like the day Eric confessed he knew I wrote The Last Person.