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   Chapter 24 No.24

My Sister's Keeper By Bill Benners Characters: 5734

Updated: 2018-05-28 11:03


SYDNEY GOT ME INTO THE CAR, drove me home, and helped me upstairs. I was bleeding from wounds over practically every inch of the front of my body, but the shotgun shells had been loaded with rock salt instead of lead shot. Although the injuries were not life threatening, they were painful.

The house was still in disarray—"from the visitor, " I told her. "If you think this is bad, you ought to see what he did to the back of my head."

As we stumbled into the bathroom, she pushed my hair to the side, pulled off her sunglasses, and examined the lump and stitches. "Richard, you didn't tell me it was this bad."

"You mean you didn't notice it?"

She lowered me onto the side of the tub. "No I didn't. You should have told me."

"You should have seen it Thursday."

She wet a cloth and touched it gently to my face. As she wiped away the blood and cleaned the salt from my wounds, I saw up close how beautiful she was.

"Who'd you say you were dating?" I asked.

"I didn't."

"Is it serious?"

"It used to be."

"So, what does he do?"

She exhaled. "He's an attorney."

An attorney? All my hopes vaporized and the energy in my body receded as she rinsed the cloth and wiped it over my face and neck once more. "Thanks, " I whispered. "If you'll let me get a shower and change clothes, I'll take you back to your car."

"Are you sure you can do this?"

"I've been doing it since I was five."

"You know what I mean."

I smiled. "Yes. I'm okay."

Touching her hand to my face, Sydney started to say something, changed her mind, turned, and left me alone. Again I stripped off a set of clothes that I dropped into a pile to throw away. With a hot shower and clean clothes, I felt bett

omething that I'd misplaced years ago—something that rightfully belonged to me. I wanted to spend the rest of the day with her—maybe even the rest of my life, but I knew in my heart I'd never be able to have her. She was too special, too unique to fall for someone like me. She had this other thing going with the lawyer and I didn't want to interfere. I got out, circled the car, and opened the door for her.

She stepped out, pressed the button to unlock her van, and placed her purse inside. When she turned back to face me, I leaned to kiss her, but she turned her head away.

Damn! How could I have been so stupid?

I stepped back. "I'm sorry, I—"

"It's okay. I'm just…" She left the sentence unfinished, exhaled, got in the van, and cranked the engine. I pushed her door closed and stepped away from the van regretting the way the day was ending.

She rolled the window down. "Be careful tomorrow."

I nodded. "Thanks. I'll be fine."

For a brief moment our eyes locked and I felt a surge of something. Was that hope? Or was it pity? She clicked her seatbelt in place, shifted the vehicle into "reverse, " and backed away.

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