Things Made Right by Tymber Dalton Read Free Book Online

there, she could see him lying on the couch, the TV on, volume turned down low as he watched an old B monster movie on the late show.
    At least his presence proved a comfort to her despite his absence from her bed. Knowing she was safe with him there in the apartment, she was able to quickly fall asleep.
     
    * * * *
     
    Early the next morning, Ross threw his sneakers into the dryer with two dirty towels to help soften the noise and turned it on high for a few minutes to try to get some of the dampness out of them. It was a little after dawn, but already the normal morning sounds on the street outside were winding up as the city awoke and started its day.
    She fixed him scrambled eggs, wishing he didn’t have to go, but he needed to run home before class. When he had to leave, he pulled her close by the front door, holding her as she stood there in her bathrobe, her arms around him.
    She wished he’d never let her go.
    Finally, he pressed another kiss to her forehead. “When did I get here last night?” he softly asked.
    “Around seven,” she said. “I made us grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, and then we spent the rest of the evening in bed before we fell asleep. I knew Emily would be gone so that’s why I invited you over.”
    “Such a good girl,” he whispered.
    Desperately, she clutched at him. “Please, don’t go.” An irrational fear swept through her.
    She didn’t know why she suddenly worried maybe she might not ever see him again, but it rushed through her like a strong, terrifyingly nasty flood of sewage.
    “I have to. But I’ll try to come back tonight around seven, if that’s okay?”
    “Yes. But Emily will be here.”
    “That’s okay. I’ll bring pizza for all three of us.”
    “Thank you.”
    He tipped her chin up so he could look her in the eyes. In the waxing morning light, his eyes looked sweet and brown, like the coffee she’d just served him, with milk and sugar.
    When she thought about the odors of gasoline and booze wafting from him upon his arrival last night, she shoved them away.
    That didn’t happen.
    “Be my good girl today, okay?” he softly said. “Go to class. Try to have a good day. Remember, I’ll be back tonight.”
    She nodded, eagerly.
    Then he smiled. That smile.
    He leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to her lips, mouth closed, before releasing her. “Lock the door after me,” he said.
    She let him out and heard him waiting there for the sound of her shooting the deadbolt, locking the knob, and putting the chain back on. Only then did she hear his footsteps head down the hallway toward the stairs.
    Rushing to the front window, she saw him emerge onto the front sidewalk a moment later, turning and waving to her.
    She smiled, waving back, and watched as he walked down to where his car was parked on the street on the other side and halfway down the block.
    Why did he park down there?
    Never mind. Doesn’t matter.
    Now with the apartment feeling hauntingly empty without his comforting presence, she turned on the TV, to the NBC affiliate, to listen to what was left of their morning news before the Today Show came on in about twenty minutes.
    She was back in the kitchen when the reporter’s voice hit her and the plate she was washing slipped from her hands and clattered into the sink, where it shattered.
    “To recap the local tragedy from overnight, authorities still haven’t officially identified the four victims in the fiery car crash late last night out on Cumberland Road, pending next of kin notification and positive ID. But initial reports say the car was registered to one George Kessling, of Pittsburgh…”
    The next thing Loren realized, she was standing in front of the TV, watching, her left hand jammed in her mouth as she bit down on it to keep from screaming.
    “…His son, Walter Kessling, is a registered student at UPenn. Authorities are currently trying to locate Walter…”
    Loren sank to the floor as she watched, rocking herself. The