Never Always (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

“I’ll sign whatever you want,” I told Butler. “I just need a few minutes, yeah?”

He nodded. I nodded. And then I bolted. Grady didn’t say a word and I expected he wouldn’t. I didn’t how he was feeling but I could imagine. It was a hard truth. I’d dealt with it for years and I knew what he was about to go through. He didn’t have all the facts but soon he would and it was now out of my control.

I didn’t like losing control. Not when it came to this.

Everyone said something when they saw me but I ignored them. The second I didn’t say anything back, Sterling knew.

“Page.”

“I’ll be back.”

“Page,” she insisted, standing from her seat next to Emory. “Wait.”

“I’ll be back,” I assured her again. I glanced over everyone’s face: Emory’s confused, Hush’s passive, Karen’s watering eyes and covered mouth, Carrington’s pity. “Yup.”

“Wait, Page. I’ll come with you,” Sterling pleaded. “Please let me come with you.”

“Stay. I’ll be—” I screwed up my nose, trying to stop the flood. “I’ll be back. Go ahead and play without me.”

“Page—”

Karen stopped Sterling’s continued negotiation by grabbing her arm. “Let her go.”

I swiped the pass and key to my room on campus and fled.

Space. I needed space.

~

Grady

He was trying to figure it out, what she’d just said, but he couldn’t wrap his brain around it. There was commotion out in the living room but he didn’t process it. The ringing in his ears began when the door to the suite closed. It reminded him of plugging in a speaker and it making the high pitched noise. Every sound was distorted, the world was churning and in slow motion.

None of it made sense.

He was sitting. When had he sat? Butler was in the chair opposite him, talking, but he couldn’t hear him. There was a folder on the table, spread open with papers—he couldn’t read the words. His vision was swimming.

He looked up at Butler and frowned. What the hell was happening?

His name was Gage Sinclair Townsend. He was stillborn at the fetal age of six months—

What?

There was movement to his left at the door and he looked over, still frowning.

Sterling. Karen. Carrington.

Karen and Carrington.

Grady and Page. Page and Grady.

His name was Gage Sinclair Townsend. He was stillborn at the fetal age of six months.

He looked from Carrington to Karen to Sterling. Sterling. Karen. He looked from one to the other, trying to process.

“I have something to tell you,” she says. “But—”

He has something to tell her too. “Me too. We’ll talk after the show, yeah?”

She nods, resigned. “Ok.”