For 100 Reasons (100 3)

Kathryn knew of my hatred for my father. She knew about the drunken fight I had with him and the resulting injuries that cost me all but the most basic use of my hand.

Thanks to Avery’s friendship with Kathryn, she knows all of this too.

Fortunately, neither of them know the reason why.

That’s a shame I intend to take with me to my grave. Hell, I’d hasten the journey before I’d let Avery get anywhere close to the pitiful reality of my past.

Thinking about that part of my life makes me restless. My muscles twitch with the need to be moving, to be doing something—anything—rather than standing around revisiting old ghosts I left for dead a long time ago.

I stroll back the way we came in, recalling there is a terrace patio off the formal dining room on the other side of the sprawling residence. Outside the French doors, the summer night air is cool and refreshing. I fill my lungs with it, trying to purge the medicinal stench that still clings to the back of my throat.

I’m not the only one who fled the house. Kathryn’s young male companion is out here too. He nods at me in greeting from where he is reclined on a sun chair in the dark, the burning end of his cigarette glowing bright orange as he takes a long drag.

“Those will kill you, you know.”

A flash of perfect white teeth as he smiles. “Sooner or later, something will, right? I’m Michael.”

“Nick,” I say, closing the glass-paned door and leaning my shoulder against it. “Have you known her for long?”

He shakes his head. “Couple of months. You?”

I don’t answer. What would be the point? This kid doesn’t know Kathryn Tremont, and in another couple of months he’ll be rotated out for a new distraction. If she lasts that long. I doubt very much that she will.

Which means Avery is going to be hurting all over again when that happens. Her friendship with Kathryn is a fact I can’t ignore any more than I can control it.

One thing I’ve learned about Avery is that I can’t stop her from caring about someone. Her heart is too big, too pure.

How else could she ever have loved me?

I stand outside for a good while, long after Michael has finished his smoke and sauntered off into the darkness to take a phone call in private. When I head back into the house, Avery meets me in the hallway. She’s just come out of Kathryn’s makeshift bedroom, her lovely face tired and drawn.

“How’s she doing?”

“She woke up for a couple of minutes, but she’s sleeping now. Evidently she’s been pushing herself too hard planning the auction fundraiser, trying to do too much when she really needs to slow down.”

I nod in agreement, even though I doubt Kathryn will ever subscribe to that plan. She used to joke that she’d have time to sleep when she was dead. After seeing her condition tonight, I can’t find much humor in the idea.

“Her fever’s still pretty high,” Avery adds. “She’s in a lot of pain, more than she’s been letting on. Her nurse just gave her some morphine to take the edge off and help her relax for the night.”

“I’m sorry.” It’s all I can think of to say. I don’t do well in these situations under normal circumstances, whatever that is. Seeing Avery struggle to cope only makes me feel even less equipped to deal with Kathryn’s illness. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

She looks at me with weary, s

orrow-filled eyes. “Will you take me home now?”

“Of course, I can do that.” I reach out, cupping my palm against her cheek. “Let’s go.”

We no sooner get on the road than Avery’s phone rings with an incoming call. I tense, dreading it’s Kathryn’s nurse with worsening news. The reality is only slightly better.

“Jared, hi. I’m sorry I forgot to call you.”

Jared Rush’s voice is a low, indistinct rumble on the other end of the line. I don’t like the jealousy that flares in me. The suspicion that one of my old friends apparently has a direct line to the woman I love.

“She’s not doing well,” Avery tells him, a tremor in her words. “Jared, I didn’t realize how quickly she’s been declining. I’m not ready to say goodbye to her.”

My hands grip the steering wheel as I merge onto the freeway that will take us to Queens. A steady rain has begun, pattering against the roof. Under the relentless beat, I hear Jared offering Avery quiet comfort, indistinct reassurances that sound heartfelt and sincere. They talk for a few more minutes, her tone sober, thready with emotion. Then she quietly says goodbye, promising to call him again tomorrow.

“That was Jared.”