Page 29 of Solo

I’m shaking my head against his sweatshirt. “No, you don’t understand… I…I just…I…thank you,” I finally manage to spit out. “Thank you…”

“Shh,” he comforts. “Nothing to thank me for.”

After a minute, he wraps both of his arms around me and he’s leaning forward so that I am leaning back. He lowers me slowly to the bed and then sits up.

“You’re just exhausted,” he murmurs. “You need to get more rest. Are you hungry?”

I nod. “A little…but my stomach…” I murmur.

“It’s okay. We’ll wait a little while and then I’ll bring you some tea and toast. We’ll see how you do with that and go from there, sound good?”

I smile up at him through my exhaustion. “Yeah, that sounds good,” I say softly, finding it hard to keep my eyelids up now that I’m horizontal again.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

His words filter into my mind just as I lapse back into a deep sleep. This time my parents are nowhere to be found. And, for that, I am profoundly grateful.

Chapter Twelve

Drew

I’m dumbfounded. Absolutely and completely at a loss for whatever it was that just happened in there. I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The big, spikey one that’s laced with threats and blackmail. I know there was nothing else I could have done in this bizarre clusterfuck of a situation. Still, I was so sure she’d seize this opportunity to throw me under the bus. But she didn’t. I’ll be damned if Katherine Brenner wasn’t…grateful.

Downstairs now, I stir up the dwindling embers of the fire and toss in a few more logs. They ignite immediately. When I walk to the window and pull back the curtains, I can see the snow falling fiercely as it passes through the beam of the streetlight out in the cul-de-sac. I should get the snowblower out of the garage and hit the driveway. Or at least make a path to the street. But really, what’s the point? There’s so much on the ground already, and so much more to come, that I’m better off letting the pros handle it tomorrow or whenever they get around to digging us out.

Us.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been an “us.” Not that I am now, except that there are two of us in this house. Being alone has never bothered me, except for right after Casey was gone. I heard her footsteps everywhere. I imagined her figure in every shadow that flitted through my line of sight. But now, well, I prefer it, going solo. I have to say, though, if I were a young woman I might find the prospect more than a little daunting.

Will anyone notice that Katherine Brenner didn’t come home last night? Maybe she has a roommate. Maybe she keeps in close contact with that imbecile father of hers. Who knows? Of course, none of this is my concern, either way. Or, at least, it wasn’t until she rolled up in front of my house and crashed a perfectly fine blizzard.

What a bizarre and unexpected twist that she should end up here, on my doorstep. Sick. In a storm. I have yet to decide whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing. I suppose I’ll have to wait and see how we weather the rest of the storm. Literally and figuratively.

Chapter Thirteen

Kate

This time when I wake up, I’m not scared. I know where I am and how I got here. The digital clock on the bedside table reads 4:05 p.m. Can that be right? Dr. Markham brought me tea and toast at around six in the morning. If this clock is accurate, then I’ve been asleep for the last ten hours. Is that even possible? I don’t think I’ve ever slept ten consecutive hours in my life. Maybe the clock’s wrong. I feel around for the bedside lamp and switch it on, then I get out of bed carefully. I’m weak and my legs are a little bit shaky, but I’m able to get to the bathroom on my own without too much trouble.

I peer out the small window. Oh yeah, it’s definitely late afternoon. I can tell by the low angle of the sun. It’ll be dark in less than an hour. The amount of snow on the ground is staggering, and it’s still coming down in huge flakes that resemble feathers falling from the sky.

I splash my face with some water and take a good look at my face in the mirror. “Ohhhhhhh God,” I moan under my breath.

My eyes are deeply sunken and rimmed by dark circles. I’ve never had much color, but now I look downright chalky. Even my eyes, normally a bright blue, seem to be dull and pale. Okay, well, I may look like crap, but this is the best I’ve felt in a week. I spy a hairbrush on the counter and run it through the wild mane that comes along with sleeping on wet hair. I carefully remove my long, dark strands from the bristles, wrap them in a tissue and put them in the bottom of the trash can under a cardboard toilet paper roll and an empty shampoo bottle. Hopefully he won’t know I’ve taken the liberty. I use a little toothpaste on my finger to brush my teeth, then turn my attention to what I’m wearing.

I’m swimming in this button-down shirt of his. I spend a little time rolling and tucking and by the time I’m done, it could pass for a fairly modest shirtdress. I’m tempted to see if he has a pair of boxers I can borrow, too, but I think that might be a little too intimate. For both of us.

Feeling slightly more presentable, I pad down the stairs. The den is empty and silent, save for the crackling of the fire. The room is even more impressive now that I’m seeing it in the full light of day. The baby grand piano is absolutely stunning—its glossy black striking against the stark white landscape behind it through the huge picture window.

I listen carefully, hoping to get a clue as to Dr. Markham’s whereabouts. It comes in the form of footsteps in the direction of the kitchen. When I get there, I find him standing in front of the window, surveying the snow, just as I’d been doing upstairs.

“Hi,” I say quietly from the doorway.

He turns around, brows arched in surprise.

“Miss Brenner, I hadn’t expected to see you up and around at all today,” he says, stepping away from the window and moving closer to me. He’s seems to be examining my face carefully as he approaches. “May I?” he asks, extending his hand toward my forehead.

I give him an embarrassed smile and eye roll as I nod. This time I don’t flinch, and his hand feels good on me. It’s soft and warm. He flips it over so that he’s testing my temperature with the back of his hand.