Page 177 - My FlipBook

FOURTEEN

Greta intended to chip the ice off the porch and scrub the
bathtub, but her body wanted to collapse every time she
stood. Ash watched her, frowning, when she got up off the air
mattress and flopped back down within five seconds. “What’s
wrong?” he asked.

“I’m just feeling tired.” Three months of tired all at once.
Maybe even seven years of tired—all the energy needed to
balance on the bucking surface of life with Patty. Plus the
two years of fog after their mother died. And the death itself.
Nine-years tired, in every cell and organ in her body.
“Just take it easy then. I’ll do the work,” Ash said, his
mouth poised to ask more.
She settled with a book near Elgin, watching to see that
he shifted and murmured in his sleep. Still alive, just tired

too. Something about Elgin calmed her. Even as he stood on
the edge of his own personal precipice, Greta knew he would
never drag them off with him.

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