It’s like there’s sandpaper in my throat, and a heavy weight on my chest. He’s still turning his back to me, leaning over the railing, staring at the horizon, the endless ocean. The wind is warm and salty, ruffling his hair.
“I don’t know if I can forget all that happened,” he admits, “but I’ll treat you anyway. It doesn’t matter if you were the biggest asshole.” He turns his face so that he can look me in the eyes. “Plus, physical therapy for Steinert patients can be really painful, and if someone deserves to see you squirm and beg, that’s me.”
I frown but there’s a hint of a smile tilting the corner of his lips. His gaze is softer. I relax instantly.
“That’s a little mean…”
“Maybe,” he shrugs. “But I’m close enough to do effective physical therapy with you, and I’m familiar with the disease. I’m your best option if you want to actually get a little better.”
I force my whole body to stay still, to not betray me and my thoughts.
I should tell him.
But I’m a selfish bastard, and I won’t. There’s my chance to reconnect with him. If I have to let him torture me in physical therapy for it, so be it.
I don’t actually care about getting better. I care about making things right with my old friend, and making sure my sister is settled, thriving, and as happy as she can be.
And then, I want to die.
5
RIGHT?
Prudence: Do you need me to stop somewhere for groceries?
Jack: No, it’s all good. Except if you need anything special?
Prudence: Not really…
Prudence: Are you sure you don’t need anything?
Prudence: Did the house come with a full fridge?
Jack: lol
Jack: It did not.
Jack: Would have loved to see that though.
Prudence: Jack, we can’t live off takeaway and deliveries…
Prudence: And you know I need my coffee in the morning or I’ll become a Gremlin.
Jack: I took care of it. Just come home, alright? I’ve put your key in the succulent pot next to the door.
PRUDENCE
Home. It’s nothome. He didn’t even visit the damn place before reaching out to rent it. I know that if he didn’t wheel away screaming the moment he arrived it probably means the house is up to his—ridiculously high—standards, but still. We should have done this together,right? The right way.
He could have rented a 2 bedroom shitty apartment in an ugly neighborhood, I wouldn’t have cared. My home is whereheis. I don’t need a place like this.Heis my home. The sun in my gloomy life.
When I park in front of the house, my jaw drops.
This.
Is.
Fuckingridiculous.
