Page 98 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
I don’t remember driving, but suddenly I’m pulling up to Nana’s house in the sunset light.
“Must have been closer to four hours,” I mutter as I turn off the engine.
“What’s that?” Mack asks.
“Sorry,” I say with a shake of my head. “I lost track of time in the waiting room. When the doctor showed up, I was thinking I couldn’t tell if we’d been there an hour or four hours.”
“Closer to four,” Makena says, looking concerned. “That’s why I kept asking you to eat something.”
I don’t remember that, either, but I don’t share that with her. Instead, I force a smile. “I’ll eat something now. Why don’t you have the first shower, and I’ll make us sandwiches with the leftover pimento cheese and tomato?”
“Okay,” she says, but she’s still watching me a little too closely as we head up the porch steps.
Inside, the house smells different without Nana in it. Like the walls know something’s wrong. Missing.
After Makena goes to shower, I stand in the kitchen, trying to muster the energy for what comes next, but my body’s still running the shut-down protocol. I don’t want to make sandwiches or eat or talk to Makena over dinner or shower. I don’t even want to go to bed and sleep it off.
I just want to disappear, for my consciousness to be obliterated for a while and then magically come online tomorrow, rebooted and back to something closer to normal.
I drink a beer as I force myself to make food, but the alcohol doesn’t penetrate, either. Thankfully, Makena seems as ready to be done with this day as I am. We barely exchange ten words over dinner, just shove our food in and retreat to the living room, where we watch old episodes of some dumb sitcom until it’s a respectable time to go to bed.
In the dark, I stare at the ceiling, arms at my side instead of wrapped around Makena for the first time since we started the trip.
Which reminds me…
“I’ll need to stay for a while,” I murmur into the shadows. “I can’t head home tomorrow the way we planned. But if you need to get back, I can take you to the airport or the train station, or whatever. I always flew when I came to visit as a kid, but there might be a train to New Orleans.”
“No, it’s fine,” Makena replies. “I’m in no rush to get back. I’ll stay and help with whatever you need, okay? No worries.”
“Okay, thank you,” I say, a sliver of relief snaking across the surface of the ice inside. I reach out, threading my fingers through hers. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’ve been out of it.”
“Don’t apologize,” she says, tightening her grip. “I get it. And I’m here. Lean on me as much or as little as you need.”
The relief spreads, easing some of the tension in my chest. “Thanks. I appreciate you.”
“And I appreciate you,” she says.
We lie in the dark holding hands for a long time, until I eventually close my eyes and sleep.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
MAKENA
Iwake to Parker’s lips on my shoulder and something unclenches in my chest.
“Morning,” he croaks, rough but real.
Yesterday, his voice was flat. Today, it has shape again.
“Hey.” I roll onto my side, scanning his face, further relieved to see the light is back in his eyes. He’s not back to full Parker sparkle yet—understandably—but he’s back.
I smile. He smiles.
Maybewe’reback, too.
“Coffee?” I ask.
