“Towho?” I finally asked, after moments of being locked in a dumbfounded stupor.
“Wouldit really make you feel any better if you knew?”
Ibent to grab the masher from the floor, shaking myself from my trance. “Was itRoman?”
“No,not Roman.”
“Then—”
“Tabitha,I just wanted to let you know that it’s done. The sale will be finalized in abouta week and Mrs. Worthington will be free of it. No more worrying on your part,or hers.”
“Aweek?” I squeaked. “That’s so—”
“It’sdone, honey,” Alex pressed gently.
Ipushed my head to nod at nobody. “Yeah. Yeah, I know you’re right. Um … thanksfor letting me know.”
“HappyThanksgiving, honey. Give that blonde Adonis’ ass a squeeze for me.” He giggledgirlishly as I rolled my eyes.
“Havea happy Thanksgiving, Alex,” I grumbled, and hung up the phone.
Itook a deep breath and found the determination to have a good day. I should’ve beenfocused on how grateful I was that Greyson had wanted to spend the holiday withme. I couldn’t allow myself to mourn Mrs. Worthington’s house. Not today.
Grabbingthe remote for my sound system, I hit play and was immediately treated to thedistorted electric guitar of my favorite Seether song, “Fake It.” I sang along,mashing the potatoes and bopping my head to the music, when I realized theirony in the lyrics. Of faking it to fit into society, to meet the expectationsof others.
Isnorted as I set the potatoes aside. Next, I grabbed a carving knife and set towork on the turkey. Golden and not the slightest bit dry, the bird had beencooked to perfection. Cutting into it, I inhaled, taking in the rich aroma withpride as I sang along to Seether’s “Here And Now.”
Imissed Sam.
Ihoped she could see Greyson, excelling in school and forging an incrediblerelationship with his father. I was done trying to guess why she never wantedSebastian in his life. Those were questions we would never have answers to, andthat was something we just had to accept. But I hoped she was happy with theway things had turned out. I hoped she knew I was doing the best I could, and Ihoped she was proud.
Butmore than all of that, I just wished she was still here.
AsI held onto one of the legs and began to cut, the front door swung open. With ajolt, I whipped my head to face the intruder, and an instantaneous sting ofpain swept through my hand and up my arm. The knife clattered to the floor andI clutched my fingers to my chest, as Sebastian walked into the kitchen withaluminum trays bundled in his arms.
“Honey,I’m ho—hey, are you okay?” He slid the trays onto the counter. “Jesus, Tabby,you’re bleeding. Let me see.”
Iwinced as he took my hand in his, the throbbing escalating with every pulse.Blood swelled from the back of my pointer and middle fingers, and I immediatelyfelt faint at the sight.
“Ohmy God,” I uttered, with the wash of lightheadedness.
Ireached for the counter with my other hand as Sebastian grabbed for a towel,squeezing the cloth around my fingers and ordering me to hold my hand above myhead.
“Where’syour Band-aids and shit?” His words came to me through a warbled effect as myeyes fluttered and my hand drooped to my side. “Oh boy,” he grumbled and pulledme toward a chair, forcing me to sit down. His fingers snapped in front of myspotting eyes. “Hey, ground control to Major Tabby, are you listening to me?”
“Uh-huh,”I mumbled, nodding weakly.
“Yeah,okay, this is going well. Hold on a second … Hey Grey! Got a situation downhere, kid!”
***
Whendid I get on the couch?
Myeyes blinked open to the brightness of the living room, and I turned my head tofind Sebastian sitting on the coffee table, wrapping gauze and bandages aroundmy fingers.
“DidI pass out?” I mumbled, laying a hand over my forehead.
“Yep,”he confirmed with a smirk. “You could’ve told me you can’t deal with blood.”
