Page 47 of Love What's Left
He drops back into the chair. Finally, he says, “We came to lighten your load, not add to it. I apologize.”
“When she can finally leave the fucking closet, I expect you to apologize toher.”
He nods.
Adrenaline seeping away, I lower myself to a cushioned rattan chair, sprawl back, rub the tattoo on my chest through my shirt, and watch the leaf-shaped ceiling fan spin in lazy circles. “I haven’t been this close to the edge in years.”
“What she went through has to have brought back memories. It did for me, and I’m not here with her every moment.”
“You holding up?” I ask.
“I’ve had some nightmares I talked about with Franki. Who are you leaning on?”
“I’m focused on Sydney, not me.” My chest and throat ache. “All those years that I spent telling myself to leave that night in the past, and Markov was plotting for just as long. Until I saw his face when we found Sydney, I was convinced Nick was like us. Another innocent kid mixed up in adult games. He’d disappeared. Changed his name. I thought, ‘Good for him.’ I hoped he’d found a good life. Meanwhile, he was blaming us for fighting back, instead of facing the fact that none of it would have happened if he hadn’t been an evil little shit in the first place.”
“People jump through all sorts of mental hoops to avoid accountability.”
That’s the truth.
After a moment, Henry leans forward. “You said ‘if it were Franki,’ so I’ll do the same thing. If our roles were reversed, what would you tell me?”
“It wouldn’t be the same.”
“Try.”
It isn’t easy to say. “I’d tell you to stop blaming yourself for what happened to her.”
“That’s a start.”
It’s also impossible. “I’d tell you to call your counselor and use your resources so you’re not holding on to sobriety alone.”
He nods. “And?”
“I’dtell you to let me take some of the weight off your shoulders,” I admit.
“Will you?”
“I’ll call. And I’ll try the other two.”
He studies me. “You’re not alone. Day or night.”
Without her, it sure as hell feels like it. “Thanks.”
“Granthy wants her to stay here, rolled in bubble wrap. But sooner or later, she’ll come across something she isn’t ready to hear. Getting proactive in her own recovery will help her brace for impact. You love each other. If she doesn’t remember that first, she’ll remember it eventually.”
“You don’t know what she’ll remember, Henry. No one does.”
19
Gabriel
Fourteen Months Earlier
Leaning forward in his chair, James Mellinger rests his forearms on his knees, his hands loosely threaded together. “We have a social connection between us. So, I wanted to show you the courtesy of having this meeting in person.”
The words are a death knell before we’ve even begun. James’s wife, Clarissa, is a close family friend. So we’ve been present for many of the same events over the years. For someone else, it could be considered a boon. For me, it’s an embarrassment.
A lead weight threatens to settle in my gut, but I don’t give in to it. “You didn’t care for the projections? Or the terms?”
