Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Ren had lunch with Chris and a team of therapists in a private room, and then returned, hollow eyed and exhausted, saying only “He’s very nice” before promptly falling asleep again.
Of any of the victims of this, Edward was the least of anyone’s problems, but he was grateful when his assigned therapist, Lisa, asked that he stay on to support Ren through the sequestered crisis-management phase. “Quite frankly,” he told her, “if you hadn’t invited me to stay, I would have booked a room here anyway.”
His phone rang while Ren was still sleeping, her head in the crook of his neck. He had no intention of actually answering it, but when he saw his father’s name on the screen, he knew he couldn’t avoid it forever. Carefully disentangling himself from her, he climbed from the bed and let himself out onto the balcony.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Edward,” he said. “Where are you?”
“Boise.” Edward tried to work up the indignation he usually felt when he spoke to his father, the familiar anger that buoyed him and kept his eye on the endgame—Robert Fitzsimmons’s downfall—but he couldn’t seem to muster any. Whatever happened to him after this, whether he lost his recommendation or had to face academic or legal consequences, he knew he’d eventually be okay. Ren had changed, but Edward had changed just as profoundly. He was still terrified and had to fight the instinct to keep people at arm’s length, but his doors had been blown open and he didn’t want to close them again. He wanted to let go of the anger and let someone see him. He wanted to heal.
“The papers just said Idaho, I wasn’t sure where,” Robert said.
“Yeah, the police put us up while they sort everything out.”
“And how are you? Sounds like it was pretty rough.”
Edward looked at his phone, unfamiliar with the strain he could hear in his father’s voice. Anger, yes. Condescension, always. But gentleness? The edge of concern? That was brand-new. “It was,” Edward said. “But I’m fine. I’m more concerned about Ren. Her whole life has been turned upside down.”
“I heard you figured out where she was and got the police there before it could get any worse. That was good thinking, son,” Robert said, and a beat of silence passed over the line. “Whatever you did to get yourself into this, I’m glad it happened. She’s lucky to have you. I’m proud of you.”
Edward looked back toward the room. He could see Ren still asleep in the bed, and for the first time in his life he wished he could tell someone—one particular someone—what he was feeling. Was this what it was to feel safe? He’d share one piece of himself, and then another, and eventually the floodgates would open? He hoped so. It was terrifying, but he wanted Ren to know all the parts of him, even the ugly ones.
Edward turned away, staring, unseeing, at the parking lot and strip malls facing the back side of the hotel. Wood-scented smoke poured from the chimney of a barbecue restaurant.
“Thank you,” he said finally.
“The dean should be calling you tomorrow. You’re an adult, so you’ll have to work out the details directly with him, but he should be offering you a leave of absence. I suggest you take it.”
The authority in his father’s voice was more familiar ground, but Edward would gladly take it. “Yes, sir.”
“And what about your interview?”
Edward stared into space. His father knew about the interview. Of course he did; he had connections everywhere. But Edward realized it didn’t matter anyway. He was done hiding from his father. “I emailed to let them know I’d need a rain check.” He laughed dryly. “They understood.”
Another pause, and then, “Call me after you’ve spoken to the dean, and we’ll figure out the next steps.”
“Okay,” Edward said, “I’ll do that.”
“Have a good night, son.”
His father ended the call, and Edward stared at his phone until the screen went dark. It was the least contemptuous conversation he’d ever had with Robert Fitzsimmons, and he was unsure how to feel about it. Without the rage he’d tended for so long, he felt slightly off-kilter, unsure if he was seeing his father differently now, or whether Robert really had changed. Was that even possible? And when Edward really thought about it, did it matter? He felt like he was just stepping out of a long fog, and had many, many things to figure out. As long as he knew where Ren was and that she was safe, the rest was just details.
Inside the room again, he turned on Clueless but stared blankly at the screen, finally ordering room service for dinner and keeping the trays covered until she woke up, rumpled and red-eyed, shuffling to the table he’d set up.
“Those,” Ren said, pointing to the pancakes when he’d shown her the options he’d ordered. “Thank you.”