Page 185 - My FlipBook
P. 185
FIFTEEN
The knock came from far away. It fit into Greta’s dream about
a man hammering a boat. Then she bolted up on her elbows,
rolled off the mattress and shuffled to the door. Something
urgent about knocking. Make the noise stop.
Nate, standing in flurries. “Hey.” Snowflakes clung to
his eyebrows—a ginger Yeti. “Are you coming?” He eyed her
rumpled shorts and sweaty T-shirt. The cold air shriveled her
lungs and dry throat. Every night at Elgin’s felt like some kind
of sweat-detox program.
“No, I’m…”—she didn’t know what to say—“…not.”
Nate waited, holding his backpack in one hand and car
key in the other. “Ever again?” His shoulders dropped, like
the key suddenly weighed a lot.
The words sounded so definitive, but it was hard to
imagine that one morning she would wake up and suddenly
want to go back. The thought stirred a swirl of anxiety in her
chest, an eddy in her gut. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Nate.
And you know Ash can’t go back.”
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