Back to Shore by Taylor Danae Colbert

Author:Taylor Danae Colbert [Colbert, Taylor Danae]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781735216911
Published: 2020-08-10T18:30:00+00:00

19

I pull his truck into the driveway of my house just as the last bit of daylight is fading away. I could tell he wasn’t really in a place to drive when we were at the top of the mountain. I turn the ignition off, but neither of us move. His head is against the headrest, and he’s staring blankly out the windshield.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispers, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “God, Annabelle. If I don’t…”

I reach my hand out and take his in mine, interlocking our fingers.

“Annabelle is going to be fine. With her father,” I tell him. “Come inside. I texted Derrick, and they are covering for you at Lou’s. Alma is going to keep Annabelle tonight. You hungry?”

He turns his head to me, and after a second, a little smile tugs at his lips, and he nods. I can feel myself melting.

He follows me inside, and when he’s in, he stops and looks around. I realize he hasn’t been inside of this house since before everything happened. I pause to watch him, wondering what memories are crashing into him right now.

His eyes travel across the great room and up the big, A-frame windows.

“Memories, huh?” I ask him, leaning against the island. His eyes find me, and he nods.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his head. I wave him into the kitchen and motion for him to take a seat at the island while I pull out ingredients for homemade pizza.

“Man,” he says, “speaking of memories. Glad to see your taste hasn’t changed too much, because I haven’t had a Walton pizza in way too long.”

I smile.

“They’ve gotten a little more gourmet over the years,” I say, rolling out the dough that I had in the fridge. He laughs.

“Beer?” I ask without thinking. Can cancer patients drink beer? I have no idea what the rules are. And that scares the shit out of me.

But he nods, so I reach back into the fridge, pop the top off, and slide it across the granite.

“So, your parents still rent this place out?” he asks. I nod.

“If it didn’t make so much money in rentals, he would have sold it long ago,” I say. “I think, originally, they thought they’d always have it in the family, ya know? Pass it down to Chase and me.”

Silence.

“Then, maybe one day, our kids. But seeing as how none of that can happen now, I imagine they will sell it one day when it’s too hard to manage.”

He cocks his head. I know he’s wondering why me not having kids is such a definite. I know he knows about my miscarriage. But he doesn’t know the rest. I wipe my hands off on a towel and walk toward the foyer. I reach into my bag on the front table and pull out my notebook. I flip to the next letter and tear it out. I walk it back to him slowly, my hand shaking.

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