He returned to the couch and handed the water to Clara. Her eyes were half hooded, her lips stretched into a small smile. “Thank you.”
Fury coursed through his veins that her roommate had laced the brownies. He didn’t fucking care if they weren’t meant for Clara, they were inherhouse. Why had she done it?
Clara sipped some water, then looked at the glass, her brows pulled together and, despite the drugs, she suddenly looked focused…almost sad.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly.
“This book that I read while I was going through chemotherapy.”
Holden wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Still, he asked, “What book?”
“It was calledThe Slight Edge. And there was one part that hit me so hard. Olson wrote that on average, only ten people cry at a funeral.” She looked up at him. “You live an entire freaking life and onlyten peopleare sad enough that you’re gone to cry.”
His voice softened. “People will cry at your funeral, Clara.” Although, that wouldn’t be happening for a long fucking time.
“Then,” she continued like she hadn’t heard him, “he wrote that the number one factor that determines whether people will go from your funeral to your burial is the weather. So if it rains, half of those non-crying, pretend-to-love-me fakers won’t be there for my final moment before I’m put into the ground.”
“You’re not going to be put into the ground.”
“One day I will.”
His back teeth ground together. He hated that thought. “Not for a long fucking time.”
“But when that day does come—”
“People will go to your burial.”
She tilted her head. “Will you go to my burial, even if it rains?”
“You’re not—”
“I know. I’m not going to die for along fucking time.” His lips twitched. “But when I do…will you go to my burial if it rains?”
“I’d go to your burial in a hurricane.”
A slow smile curved her lips. “You would not.”
“I would. But I won’t have to. Because I’m dying first.”
She laughed, and the sound hit him in the fucking chest. “I don’t think so. You know too many ways to defend yourself, and you won’t let sickness take you down. I’m definitely going first. And when I do, I’ll be watching from the sky to make sure you cry at my burial.”
He squeezed her thigh. “I believe you.”
“Good.” She yawned and closed her eyes. “Do laced brownies make you tired?”
“Yeah, they do.”
“Good. This is good. A new life experience. I like adding those to the list. I’m not even mad at Scarlett anymore.”
Hewas.
Clara suddenly lay down and pillowed her head on his lap.
For a moment, he was still. So still that he didn’t move a single muscle. Because she felt good against him. Really damn good.
Then she reached behind her for his wrist and placed his hand on her waist. “Mm. It feels good to have your arm around me.”
“Yeah, it does.” He hadn’t meant for that drop of truth to come out, but it had.
