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"Yeah, though less rare in the sixties than it is now. They lived in the boondocks, and my mother started hemorrhaging. She bled to death before my dad could get help. I guess I wasn't breathing either, so he had two emergencies to deal with." She stopped abruptly and rubbed her forehead with her fingers. "But you don't need to hear all the gory details of my life." |
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Chris crossed to the window, pulling the curtain aside to glance out. He had a prime view of the parking lot. The Explorer they'd driven from Lakeview sat alone in an aisle of empty parking places. "I suppose most people say they're sorry when you tell them your story. I won't. I know how useless words are." |
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"Yes, I can see how you would." Chris heard her stand and cross the distance between them. His body called out to hers, but he refused to turn around. He could feel her standing right behind him. If he turned, he'd take her into his arms, and they'd end up back on the bed she'd so recently vacated. But if he did that, it would be for all the wrong reasons. The loneliness he'd lived with for most of his life seemed so much worse since he'd met D.J. Since he'd shared part of his past with her and learned of the similarities in their lives, a kinship had sprung up between them that could endanger all he held dear. |
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"What happened to your parents?" she whispered. |
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He stiffened. Caught off guard by the question, long-suppressed memories crashed through his brain like the surf against the rocks of Lake Michi- |
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