The Thinnest Air
Page 24
I just want to get out of here.
I want to forget this happened.
I want my life back . . . the life I signed up for.
I want to be a good person. I want to live a life void of secrets and shame and guilt.
I want to make it up to my husband, give him the wife he deserved. The one he married, the one he ravished in a Parisian honeymoon suite, vowing to love her until her dying day.
Harris and Greer watch from across the room. My sister has refused to leave my side since she got here, even forcing the doctors to examine her here, in front of me, so she didn’t have to step out.
If I thought she was overprotective before, I’m guessing I haven’t seen anything yet.
“The doctors say I can leave today,” I tell Andrew.
He smiles, squeezing my hand.
“Where’s my mom?” I ask.
“She and Wade are on their way,” he says. “They got stopped by a news crew outside. Your mom insisted on answering questions.”
I snort through my nose, rolling my eyes. “Must be a new phase of hers . . . wanting the spotlight.”
“You should’ve seen her on TV last week.” Andrew winks.
“I can only imagine.”
The doctor who examined me last night steps in, and the room falls quiet. “Meredith, how are we feeling?”
“Homesick,” I say without pause.
He chuckles through his nose before reaching for the stethoscope around his neck. “Then let’s get you the hell out of here.”
“Yes, let’s,” my husband says, moving out of the way before planting himself in the chair beside my bed. “I’m anxious to get my wife back home, where she belongs.”
The doctor checks me over once more, exchanging words with one of the nurses before she hands him a clipboard and a form to sign.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to Andrew, “for everything.”
“Me, too.” He presses his nose against mine, breathing me in. He’s never been an emotional man, rarely letting his guard down, but when he pulls away and looks into my eyes, I catch a sliver of the man I fell in love with, the one who looked at me like I was the only thing he was ever going to need for the rest of his life.
“I want what we had before,” I say, “before we started keeping secrets and hurting each other.”
“We’ll get there.” Andrew sighs, studying my face. “Besides, I could never let you go. I’m a selfish man when it comes to you.”
My husband takes my hands in his, lifting them to his mouth and depositing a single kiss against my skin. When he lets me go, I realize my sister is standing across from him now. Greer takes a seat on the edge of my bed, studying me, her mouth half-open like she has something to get off her chest.
“I’ve never been so scared,” she finally says. Her eyes turn glassy, a rare sight on a woman whose heart has always been wrapped in impenetrable stone.
“Me, too,” I say, releasing Andrew’s hands and taking hers.
“I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.” Greer glances at our intertwined fingers before returning her gaze to me. “How could I not know all these things about you, Mer?”
Exhaling, I flatten my lips. “I didn’t want you to worry. And I was ashamed. I justified everything, all the time. And I know now that I was wrong. I’ll never keep anything from you again, Greer. I promise.”
We linger in silence, the two of us, and I imagine she’s lecturing me in her mind right now, but I can assure her there’s nothing she could say that I haven’t already said to myself.
I’ve made mistakes. I’ve been selfish. I’ve been lost. I’ve hurt the ones I loved the most, and in the end, it almost cost me everything.
“I never would’ve stopped looking for you,” Greer says.
“I know.” I offer a closemouthed smile. “That Harris, huh? Guess he’s not so bad.”
Her lips twist at one side at the mere mention of his name.
“Let’s get you home, okay?” Greer rises, dabbing her eyes with the backs of her hands and tearing herself out of her emotional stupor as if it were a scratchy polyester suit.
“G?” I ask.
“Yes?” She turns to face me, head tilted and limp blonde hair blanketing her shoulders.
“You’re my best friend. And I love you,” I say. “Thank you for never giving up on me.”
Her eyes crinkle, and she places her palm over the top of my hand. She says nothing, but I know. The unspoken bond between us supersedes the sweetest sentiment either of us could possibly exchange in this moment.
Sitting up, I toss the hospital blanket off my legs and pull a generous breath of hospital air into my lungs.
I’m going home.
I’m finally going home.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book would not have been possible if it weren’t for the amazing people responsible for the behind-the-scenes craziness. Jessica Tribble, thank you so for reaching out to me after reading The Memory Watcher. Your enthusiasm and passion and energy for the book world are refreshing and delightfully contagious! Jennifer Jaynes, you’ve been my own personal cheerleader from the moment I reached out to you. Your kindness and encouragement have been an absolute godsend. Jill Marsal, thank you for everything you do; your tireless brokering, wealth of industry knowledge, straight-shooter attitude, and impeccable communication are proof that I won the lottery of literary agents. Charlotte Herscher, your notes were amazing! You’re like an intense personal trainer . . . but for books. After the first round of revisions, I was sore but in a good way, and I knew I was only going to get stronger going forward.
To my parents: Thank you for the endless love and encouragement. Mom, thank you for feeding my book addiction via Scholastic book orders growing up, and Dad, thanks for making us hang out at the library on the weekends. Because of that, I stumbled upon Stephen King at age twelve and graduated from Sweet Valley High to the dark and twisted.
To K, M, and C: You’re simply the best. Better than all the rest. But seriously, you truly are. I couldn’t survive this career if it weren’t for you three. Your talent and friendship mean the world.
Finally, to my husband: You may have eaten frozen pizza one too many dinners or seen the light on in my office late at night more than you would have liked, but you’ve never once complained. You always supported me, believed in me, and did everything you could to make this dream a reality. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you. (And yes, you can get those golf clubs.)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2017 Jill Austin Photography
Born and raised in the Midwest, Minka Kent is a graduate of Iowa State University and the author of The Memory Watcher, The Perfect Roommate, and The Thinnest Air. Her debut psychological suspense, The Memory Watcher, reached the Amazon Kindle Top 100 in March and September 2017, as well as the Amazon Most Sold chart in November 2017. Translation rights to The Memory Watcher have been sold in multiple countries.