Page 51 of One More Chapter
“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”
Before I can let myself deflate, he steps forward and tilts my chin up with his thumb and forefinger.
My body is alight with electricity. I gasp, my eyes widening before they flutter up at his impenetrable gaze. His thumb swipes over my cheek, but before he can say anything, his walkie beeps again.
And once again, Anthony Ellis leaves me with my skin on fire and nowhere to put out the flames.
nineteen
anthony
I probably breakseveral traffic laws on my way home from school after a pit stop at the store, but I couldn’t care less. I managed to get Nathan to give me Claire’s phone number when Penelope wasn’t texting me back, and got enough information to send me into a panic.
Her wrist is fractured. She’s in a cast for 4 weeks, and then they’ll check in.
Reading that text was like swallowing glass.
Penelope has already had a hell of a time lately. She doesn’t need this too.
I’ve done my best to learn what I can about her by living together, and managed to snag a few of the snacks she keeps in her pantry bucket. Loaded down with Cheetos, Nerds Clusters, and animal crackers, I grabbed a six pack and something with a bubble bath label and rushed home. Claire’s car is still here when I arrive, and I realize that Pen’s is still in the parking lot at school.
Maybe I should text one of the guys to help me get it—but that would delay me getting to her.
My grocery bag hangs limply in my hand. My peace offering somehow weighs differently after what happened this morning. I’d seen her on the ground,hurt, and it had gutted me. I’d had my hands on her, and it had set my body into overdrive.
I push through the door, where girly laughter starts to die down with my arrival. I’m barely into the kitchen when I hear Claire’s approaching footsteps, and her cheerful, “Oh, good! You’re back.”
She leads me to the kitchen table, which is now loaded down with Pen’s pain medication.
“She needs to take one of these every six hours. Her castcannotget wet. She’s just tired, but I set her up on the couch. Her arm should be elevated as much as possible for the next few days. Good luck!”
Claire claps a hand to my shoulder, then calls out, “Text if you need anything!” to Penelope and walks out the door, leaving us alone and dumbstruck. It takes me too much time and not enough at all to cross my way into the living room, where I can’t stop my smile from spreading.
Penelope is cuddled up on the couch with the recliner propped beneath her feet. She’s buried in a blanket cocoon, her right hand in a bowl of popcorn, her left arm encased in lime green plaster with Claire’s name Sharpied down the side.
God, I want to stop time.
I want to put her in a bubble so that nothing bad ever happens to her again. I want to curl up beside her and hold her through this and let her throw popcorn at me while I make bad jokes about a movie we picked out to watch.
But I don’t know if I get to be that guy.
“Can you stop staring at me like I died?” she asks, one brow lifted, one cheek full of buttery goodness.
I huff a surprised, airy laugh, and shake my head.
“How’s the patient?”
“Annoyed. Doped up though, so I can’t really complain about the pain.”
She shrugs, then tilts her head.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Oh, this?” I lift the Target bag, and she nods. “I uh… Goodies. To make you feel better.”
She shovels the handful of popcorn into her mouth before extending her hand. I unload my gifts one by one, and watch her eyes go from excited to surprised to a peculiar shade of pink that washes her cheeks so prettily.
“Figured you might need some cheering up.”