Wilson Mooney Eighteen at Last by Gretchen De La O

Author:Gretchen De La O [O, Gretchen De La]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance
ISBN: 9780983665830
Publisher: gdelao
Published: 2012-11-02T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

Frank was gone. Nancy and Camille didn’t want to come home. But when the Vaughns showed up at the hospital, they took them to their house. That left Max and me, together—but alone. We drove back to his family’s cabin in silence. The whine of the engine was the only constant I could rely on to soothe the anguish that consumed me. There was nothing I could do or say to heal Max. I couldn’t make it better or take away his pain. Nothing could erase the excruciating fact that his father was dead.

The car swayed in a lulling motion down the long driveway to the Goldsteins’ darkened cabin. It felt like ghosts with murky intentions lingered around the bushes and trees. The beam of the headlights danced across the front windows, casting a glimmer of hope that someone, anyone, would wake us from this nightmare. I wanted to feel the relief of waking up. But of course that wasn’t going to happen. I watched Max lift his burdened arm up, and with his long finger, push the button on the garage door opener; we were finally home. A feeling of reprieve washed over my body when I heard the garage door moan shut and the familiar garage fell silent. He sat for a moment. Pieces of him were gone—lost, and left at the hospital. I reached over and touched him. He seemed so rigid and worn out when he looked at me.

“You need to sleep,” I said. He turned away, pushing his door open as he lifted himself out of the car. I watched him return to a vacancy nobody wanted and his motion was heartrending. I sat, stone cold and lost, while he came around to my door. My mind turned and searched, working to find what to say—what to do to help him through this. He pulled open my door. Damn it, even hurting he can’t stop taking care of me.

I love him so much.

I wanted to take every last painful experience from him and bury it deep in the sea under a massive rock so it couldn’t float up and find him. I wanted to cling to his skin and erase every memory of all the disappointment he felt today. He wrapped his arm around my waist as I stood up; I could feel his heat scorching me right above my hip as he slid his hand underneath my shirt, pressing against my skin. He pushed his face against my hair and his warm breath brushed my ear.

“Thank you for being here with me,” his voice cracked as he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” I answered.

Max pushed the door open and we meandered into the kitchen. In silence we removed our shoes and dropped them into the rattan basket Nancy intentionally set by the door. Frank’s muddy work boots sat, lonely, on a folded newspaper, left there to be cleaned later with the expectations he’d be returning. Max didn’t notice, or maybe he didn’t want to. His hand danced down my arm, ending at my fingers.

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