As She Fades(9)

He grinned. “It looks to me like it’s a swing, V.”

“I know that … but where did it come from?”

He walked up and slipped his hand over mine. We were doing that a lot lately. Holding hands. “You said last week the only thing that could make this place better was a swing. So there’s your swing.”

My eyes grew wide as his words sank in. “You did that?”

“Well, my dad helped a little,” he admitted.

That didn’t matter. It had been his idea. He had built me a swing. “Can I try it?” I was unable to contain my excitement.

“You better. Or my feelings will be hurt.”

I threw both arms around his neck while standing on my tiptoes to reach him. He grew an inch every day, it seemed. Soon I would need a ladder to reach him.

“Thank you,” I said as his arms wrapped around me.

“Anything for you, V. Anything.”





CHAPTER SEVEN

AS I WALKED down the hall toward the waiting room, my steps slowed when I saw Slate sitting there. He had a coffee in each hand. The same delicious coffee from yesterday. He was leaning back in a chair with his feet propped up on the seat across from him.

Why was he here this early? I’d been here an hour already when he’d arrived yesterday, and he had called that early. He turned his head in my direction as I got closer. Then a slow smile slid across his face that I would admit was movie star–worthy. He should look into that. Or modeling, maybe.

“Good morning,” he said as if he’d been up for hours or had several cups of coffee. I’d had none and slept on a bean bag, then was awakened by Maddy before the sun was fully up.

“Why are you here?” I asked, not even attempting to sound polite. I was too tired for polite.

He held up the coffee. “Well, I thought that was obvious. Bringing a friend a cup of joe and seeing just how early she gets here every day.” He glanced back at the clock on the wall. “Seven sharp. Impressive.”

I was a challenge to him. That’s what Knox had said. Maybe he was right.

The thing was, I didn’t want to be a challenge. I had Crawford to worry about.

“Thanks for the coffee,” I said, and took the one he was offering me. “Are you going to see your uncle now?”

He laughed. “No way. He’d kill me if I woke him up this early. He already bitches out the nurses for waking him up at eight to eat. Not a friendly guy.”

And Slate made those nurses feel lots better, I was sure.

I put my bag down, then took a seat two over from him. There was no reason to sit too close. I wasn’t into this challenge thing. Telling him so seemed like the best course of action.

“Knox mentioned that you like chasing girls and that I’m a challenge. Let’s just be clear—I’m not. I love Crawford. I’ll always love Crawford. No contest here. But I appreciate the coffee.”

That didn’t sound as sophisticated as I had hoped, but there it was.

When he didn’t say anything right away, I glanced over at him, and he was taking a drink of his coffee while studying the wall like there was a piece of art on it rather than a clock.

“Do you know what I used to do at five every morning?” he asked.

Weird question and completely not on topic, but I went with it.

“What?”

He turned his head to me. “I used to get up and feed the chickens and collect their eggs, clean the horses’ stalls—we had three—and then fill the water trough for the horses before feeding the dogs and going inside to get breakfast started. Uncle D drank too heavily every evening to get up and do much. So before school I handled that shit.”

None of it even sounded believable and I didn’t know why he was telling me this.

He stood up then and gave me a sincere smile. “Have a good day, Vale. I hope your boy opens his eyes.”

Then he walked away.

*

I SAT FOR the next hour wondering what that conversation had meant and why Slate had told me such a strange story. He never reacted to what I said, and I started wondering if I’d imagined speaking to him. Once my coffee was gone and my legs were stiff from sitting, I got up and decided to walk around the hospital some. It always scared me to get too far away from Crawford, but I needed to stretch my legs. My sleeping arrangements last night had made me sore.

I took the elevator to the children’s floor to see if they might need someone to read to the kids in the children’s activity room. I needed something to do while I waited. I could at least be helpful.

A deep voice I recognized stopped me as I opened the door. I looked in the window behind the Dr. Seuss poster that covered most of the glass and saw Slate sitting in a large red chair with a book in his hands. Three little girls and two boys sat on the floor in front of him. Four of the five kids were bald. One little girl held a teddy bear tightly to her chest as she looked up at Slate with wide eyes.

He was reading. To the kids. And he was doing a good job because he had their complete attention. I stood there and watched, letting the door close quietly. I didn’t want him to see me, but I had to be sure that what I was seeing was for real. I didn’t imagine Slate as a guy who would spend his morning reading to sick kids. But there he was, smiling and making different voices that made the kids laugh.

After a few moments, I stepped out and made my way back down to Crawford’s floor. The image of Slate reading aloud wasn’t going to leave me. He might be a player, but he was a nice guy. He had a heart. He was visiting me because I was alone, waiting for my boyfriend to wake up. Not once had he actually hit on me. I’d just assumed.