Page 109 of Running Home to You
Abby nodded, and her stomach hardened.
“Her name’s Dani. She was one of the nurses when I had my ACL surgery. She’ll be at the wedding.”
Kate stretched one of the most painful smiles she could remember. “Good. I’m glad you have someone to take care of you.”
“I don’t need someone to take care of me.”
“Oh yes, you do. You always have.” Kate chuckled gently. “I always thought I’d be the one to take care of you.”
“You still could be.”
Kate’s fake joy dwindled. “I think we ran out the clock on that one.”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
The clock glowed over Abby’s shoulder. Two in the morning. The dim lamplight enveloping the sterile hotel room and the casinos flickering outside left her tired and sad. Empty. Shiny but spiritless. She wondered how they got this far away from each other. She could’ve cried.
“I should go.”
“Don’t.” Abby’s voice cracked, and she grabbed her hand. “Please.”
“You know we can’t—”
“I know. I don’t want that. Just stay and talk. Or don’t talk.” She cupped her cheek. “Please.”
Kate exhaled and closed her eyes. “Okay.”
They talked for a little longer. Abby gave Kate a shirt and shorts to wear for bed. She melted into them like she did at Insley, the memory of Abby’s body left in the fabric.
“I don’t want to fall asleep,” Kate said as they wrapped together.
Abby rubbed her back, chin resting atop her head. “Me neither.”
But then the day caught up with her. The anger and the joy and the anxiety pressing down on her eyelids. Kate drifted with her face in Abby’s neck, breathing her through the dawn. And it wasn’t sex. But it was more.
When she woke up to Abby spooning her, she thought it might be a dream. And when it wasn’t, the heaviness returned. The heaviness of leaving, and of Ryan, and of Abby. But she didn’t move. She watched Abby sleep, aroused but older, wise enough to be wary even as her body hummed.
“We missed our flights,” Kate whispered when Abby’s eyes blinked open.
“Good,” Abby croaked.
“Also, don’t check your phone. The group blew mine up. I’m sure they’ve done the same to yours.”
Abby pinched her forehead and sat up. “I can book you a new flight.”
“No, I should get it.”
“Right.”
They hovered, pausing at the place where a good morning kiss once lived. Kate sighed into it and Abby raised a crooked half smile that nearly reeled her closer.
“Are you okay?”
Kate nodded. “Yeah. I just need some aspirin.”
She retreated to the bathroom, hating herself for not outgrowing this, for still faltering in the face of Abby. And yet the person she saw in the mirror, tired, hair askew, Abby’s baggy shirt hanging from her shoulder, didn’t alarm or send her spinning. She looked like herself. An old version of herself with a glow she almost forgot.
It didn’t last long. Not after she rifled through Abby’s bag for aspirin and found an orange bottle instead. The instinct rang in her ears. She found three more buried with it. All prescription painkillers. All prescribed by different doctors.
