Page 63 of After We Fall

“Hit her?”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Sell drugs to her?”

“What is wrong with you?”

“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with you,” Meredith snaps back.

Luke chuckles, and Harlan purses his lips, his face growing red with what appears to be a held-back laugh.

The spike in emotions got my blood to flow, causing pain to pulse at my injuries. I inhale a deep breath and swallow down portions of the angst, anxiety, and frustration.

Meredith rests her weight on the edge of my bed and takes my hand in hers. “We knew going in, Penelope, that we have no control over what these women decide to do with their lives. They’re over eighteen years old. Adults. If we ran a facility for minors, things might be different. But we chose to help this age group for a reason. We are an uncommon resource for at-risk adults who need a safe place to mature, obtain life skills, and discover community.” She tucks a long strand of her dark brown hair behind her ear. “But we do this, eyes wide open, knowing that these precious women get to choose whether they want to stay or go. And we do this knowing that they could break our hearts in the process.”

Yes. That’s it. That’s the ache in my chest. My heart is breaking for Finley. Only there’s more.

I draw a shaky hand to my left eyebrow, skimming over the bandage. An old wound giving ground to a new wound. The blood of seasoned grief erupting through the ripped skin of a fresh cut. My heart breaks for an orphaned twelve-year-old Penelope who is begging an eighteen-year-old Finley to embrace the belonging found inside the fence lines of Twelve Bluebells Ranch.

“I interviewed several people who own facilities like the one we’re creating,” Meredith says. “Every single one of them warned me this could happen. That we could invest in these beautiful souls, only for some of them to return to their unhealthy choices. This isn’t your fault, Penelope. This is reality. This is life.”

I purse my lips and turn to gaze at the window. The one with the long, gray shades closed to the outside world.

“All right.” Harlan claps his hands and rubs them together. “This is great timing. I just wrapped up a big consulting job, so I don’t have any business on the table for you right now. Getting someone from a temp agency to stand in your place while you’re indisposed shouldn’t be a problem.”

I rub at a spot over my heart. Someone from a temp agency is going to replace me?

Meredith picks up where her husband left off. “And I know you’re so on top of things, Penelope, that any work you’ve done with the ranch is spelled out in a well-organized manner. Probably color coded.”

“Did you talk to Claire any more about taking the program director position?” Harlan asks Meredith.

I blink. “Claire?”

“Claire Stark. Remember? My best friend back in Texas? She’s a riot. Also an incredible high school teacher.” Meredith ticks off Claire’s traits, but I remember her friend.

I just didn’t know she was being considered for the job.

“I wonder if we can get her in place sooner rather than later. It would take more off Penelope’s plate.” Harlan tosses this suggestion to the room carelessly, as if he didn’t just spear a javelin through my heart.

I want to stand on my hospital bed and yell at the top of my lungs, Me. I’m the one. I’m supposed to be the new program director for Twelve Bluebells Ranch. Instead, I stare down at my hands, one with an IV hep lock, the other peeking out from behind the thick fabric of a sling and bearing scratches from a fall.

“Claire’s going to get back to me. She’s excited about the possibility, but she wants to finish the school year with her current class. We’ll see.” Meredith mini-claps her hands. “It would be so fun to have her up here.”

My résumé’s brilliance is irrelevant. My degrees and personal experience can’t compete with the title of best friend. Besides, my résumé is now stained with poor job performance. Meredith’s well-intentioned pep talk aside, “lost a halfway house tenant” isn’t a resounding endorsement for my qualifications.

“Luke,” Harlan says, “with the current crisis under control, what’s the update on the wedding day vandalism? Did you find anything concrete while we were gone?”

Luke glances at Meredith, then flicks his eyes back to Harlan.

“You can speak freely,” Harlan says. “She knows what happened.”

Meredith shoots a glare at me. “Harlan filled me in when we landed this morning. Someday we’ll discuss how you kept something important from me.”

“I won’t apologize for giving you a stress-free walk down the aisle.”

“I know.” She sighs. “It’s another reason you’re so good at your job.”

Luke pulls something out of his pocket, unwraps it, and shoves it in his mouth. My eyesight might not be twenty-twenty yet, but the way he’s chewing, it has to be gum. “The good news is nothing else vaguely resembling that incident happened while you were gone.”