Leaping Read Online Free Page A

hell out," he said, though she was out, and waiting on the
porch and he wanted to fling her…like the soup.
    "I'm
going. I'm leaving…but I'll be there…at the cabin," she said.
    Over
this he yelled, "Get away from me," and he stomped into the house and
slammed the door and locked it against her.
    His
back on the door, his shoulders, his stomach…his fury. He went up the stairs, but that wasn't
it…he went to the room he used now, his room and he stood there and walked
there, to the window to make sure…she was going, and she was, stumbling along,
tripping some, rubbing at her eyes, she'd dropped her clothes, she'd left the
pot, the lid, she left…she left.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    Chapter
6

 
    He
brooded for two days. He got drunk and told Cori off in the empty house. He
went so deep down the well of self-pity he could barely breathe. He called
Alisha and yelled and Paul got on and told him to deal with it and to shut the
hell up and then nothing.
    Oh,
so this was the new approach now. Run him over…then tough love.
    He
threw his phone and heard it break apart on the floor…where he'd been with
her…that cunning bitch…that traitorous bitch.
    He'd
passed out on the floor. Mrs. Palm found him there the following morning.
    "Are you alright
Mr. Staley?" she asked, leaning over him, startling him as he opened his
crusted eyes and tried to focus on her round concerned face.
    He
felt shame. Time was…he put others first…he'd cared how he came off…how he
represented…love. Now he struggled to get up. "I'm fine," he mumbled, then he rolled onto his knees and defied gravity to
get on his feet. No sooner had he gotten his bearings than he had to run out
the door she'd left open.
    The
fresh air was a shock. He leaned over the railing and threw up and the sea
rolled and his stomach with it, but there wasn't much inside him…he hadn't
eaten.
    So
he was quiet and sick deep down then. He hoped Alisha was happy, pulling him
back to all the crap, the voices, the feelings, he hoped she was wrecked and
Paul was cursing him while he tried to comfort her. He knew how he'd leaned on
them, but that was Alisha. She'd have it no other way…his enabler. Now she was
trying to get rid of him, trying to move him past it all so she could breathe.
He'd told her to back off, he'd said it and said it…they weren't joined at the
hip…he had a right to feel terrible…to be terrible. He had a right.
    When
he calmed some, and he always did eventually, he cleaned up and drove to the
library in town to use the computer. He didn't have Wi-Fi at the house, and
with his phone broken…. He didn't want it. But here, using the library's
technology, he Googled Cori Weston. There were five of them, maybe more, but
she was head of the list…well, she would be. It had been a big story, and there
was her name…linked to his…the dead grandfather…the wounded kid…linked to him.
On the computer…linked forever.
    The
intersection of two souls on the beach…orchestrated. His
sister. The one he'd leaned on…the only one left...and now…nobody.
    He
followed the thread on the boy…story after story. He'd recovered. He was
walking. She was the mother…Cori Weston.
    Emotion
opened…a sinkhole, a pit. That kid was walking. He shut it off then. He looked
around, made sure he was alone as he wiped over his face with a shaking hand.
    He
hadn't wanted to see the boy. He hadn't wanted it. It was the only way to
control something…and from his core…he'd refused all interviews.
    He'd
done his part…all he could… limited… pathetic. He'd had
to let go. Or appear to. He had to appear to let go…like he could.
    He'd
pulled out of everything, quit everything, his work,
his life. Laura. Just quit. And months in his apartment…then
at Alisha's. Counseling in another town. Two
weeks trying to sell the latest technology at a superstore. Then not coming out
of the house again. Drinking. Counseling. Waiting tables. Drinking. Anger.