The Best Way to Lose Read Online Free

you,” she murmured a little resentfully and started to step back from the bed. Then she noticed the puny movement of Elliot’s fingers, clawing at the bedsheet in a grasping gesture. When she took hold of his hand, he tried to squeeze it.
    “You want me to stay here?” she asked to be sure she’d understood. His eyes slowly closed in an affirmative reply. It was frightening torealize that even that seemed to be an effort to him.
    “I’m here, Dad.” Trace stood close beside her, their shoulders almost brushing. The perfumed scent of her hair was a sweet incense in the room. “Don’t try to talk anymore.”
    Pilar felt his attempt to lift the hand she held, so she did it for him. His gaze, however, continued to cling to his son’s face. “Take … care … of… her.”
    The significance of his request escaped Pilar for the span of a few seconds. When the inherent finality in his words hit her, she threw an accusing look at his son, as if he were somehow to blame for Elliot giving up. There was a long moment when Trace neither looked at her nor responded to the request. Reluctance seemed to claim him as a muscle in his jaw flexed convulsively.
    “I will,” he said finally and slid a half-screened look at her, measuring her reaction.
    An angry protest seethed through her system. Tightly she held on to Elliot’s hand when it went limp. “Don’t be silly, Elliot.” Her chiding voice was falsely light and she had to force it through her teeth. “You’re going to get better. I’m not going to let you go, so you have no choice.”
    There was an attempt at a smile as the corners of his mouth twitched weakly. “You … no … say.” Only three words could she understand, but the resignation that seemed to be in his expression was sufficient to make it clear. Elliot was conceding the outcome.
    “You aren’t going to die!” The low pitch of her voice was taut and vibrating with forceful rejection. “Do you hear me, Elliot?” There was the smallest nod of his head for an answer, then the nurse was touching her arm and issuing a warning shake of her head.
    “You’ll have to leave now so he can get some rest,” she advised them in a soft undertone.
    Reluctantly Pilar let go of her husband’s hand and turned to plead with the nurse for compassion. “Please, may I just sit with him?” It was difficult to be humble when all her impulses wanted to make demands.
    “I’m sorry, no.” The firm refusal was tempered with a gentle sympathy. “I’m afraid it’s doctor’s orders.”
    Before Pilar could argue the unfairness of them, a pair of large hands fitted themselves to her shoulders. “We understand.” Trace Santee’s voice came quietly in response and undermined any argument she might have put forth.
    The guiding pressure of his hands turned her away from the nurse toward the door. Pilar glanced over her shoulder for one last glimpse of Elliot. His eyes were closed but reassuring beeps were coming from the machines monitoring his vital signs.
    Her shoulders were released but it was a mere shifting of contact as an arm curved itself to her back, his fingers lightly gripping the lower rib cage. The latent strength that seemed to emanate from his touch wasoffensive to Pilar, a cruel and physical reminder of how pitifully weak her husband was. That Trace Santee was of Elliot’s flesh and blood made it even harder to bear.
    The warmth of her flesh seemed to heat his hand, but the rigidity of her carriage was its own kind of rejection. Regardless of how distraught she might be about his father, her body signals discouraged any attempt at familiarity by him. It put his teeth on edge. In the hallway Trace let his arm slide away.
    “He’ll rest for a while,” he announced, quietly inspecting her profile, so tense yet expressionless. “It’s a good time for us to go to the cafeteria and get a bite to eat. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had anything since lunch.”
    “No, thank you. You go