Bree shook her head. “I can’t go to the hospital. I can’t see her on that bed, watch her struggle to breathe. And I can’t be there to see the worst happen. Not again. I can’t.”
His brow furrowed until he remembered what Evie had said one day about their living situation. “You were here when your grandmother passed?”
Bree swallowed. Nodded.
“I was the first one there that morning. I was surprised she hadn’t opened her door yet and so I went into her room, talking nonsense about what kind of eggs Evie was making, pushing open her curtains . . . all without a clue until . . .” She paused. Collected herself. “Until I turned around.” Bree held one hand to her lips for moments that stretched to minutes, pushing her fingers against her teeth as if to build a dam. Finally, she turned to face him. “How can you bear it?”
Her voice didn’t wobble as she said it. Instead her words flowed as though, for the first time, she was really seeing him. Bree Leake seeing Chip McBride. And person to person, she wanted to know.
There was no way to sum up four years’ worth of experience. Four years of cycling through the injustice, the emotions, mentalities, worldview shifts, and then cycling through it all again. He wasn’t like the strangers with their pithy words. He could never sum up what he’d learned in the waiting, the aching, the seeking. But he did know one thing.
“I once heard it said, ‘If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.’ I live in a world where I find myself with desires for things that don’t exist. The only logical conclusion is that they must exist somewhere else, and I was made to live there.” He smiled slightly as he looked into her eyes. “I used to not understand it. Now I’ve said it to myself so many times I’ve memorized it. And I think, the longer I live, the more I’m able to appreciate the good as I experience it here, but also look forward to moving on from this beautiful, horrible rest stop to something more.”
His expression softened. “You should go see her.”
An infinitesimal nod escaped from Bree, but she didn’t say anything. There was silence as her gaze moved from him back to the moon. They stood quietly for a minute more.
Finally, Chip turned to face her. “Hey, so, I’m not 100 percent certain, but I believe some rude man fourth-wheeled on your family dinner and, unless I’m incorrect, you’re hungry. Now, I don’t know about barbecue, but I can whip up some chili worthy of at least a B+ rating.”
“Oh.” Bree looked startled as she pulled her hair behind her ear. “No, Chip. I couldn’t. But thanks—”
“I’ll even throw in some cornbread I made last week. It’s only four, maybe five days old.”
“Five-day-old cornbread. No. That’s okay—”
“There may even be some two-week-old cheesecake I forgot about in the back of the fridge,” Chip continued. “The fridge is a bit wonky, so it might have frozen up a bit, but—”
“Half-a-month-old frozen cheesecake. Wow. While that is appealing—”
“Not to mention I know where you live,” Chip pressed, finding the urge to have her over growing by the moment. “And I can just watch you like Russell does through the window until you give in.”
“Stalking now,” Bree said, her mouth starting to curve into a smile. “This whole conversation is just getting better and better.”
“But I mean, that’s fine if you want to stay in,” Chip said, flexing his fingers. “I can just work on installing those floodlights instead . . .”
Bree cracked into a full-on smile, the twinkle in her eye giving off an uncertain dare. “You wouldn’t. Surely you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” He shrugged. Tilted his head toward his house. “C’mon. It takes about thirty minutes for the space heater to heat up, but it’ll be great.”
“Wow, you really are a salesman, aren’t you?”
Despite her words, she followed.
Russell, who was, per usual, panting at the line, barked a couple of times as they neared.
Chip whistled. “C’mon, boy. Let’s get you a Slim Jim.”
The dog perked his ears at the words, and with one final bark at Bree, he turned and trotted inside.
“Just give me one sec,” Chip said, raising a finger as he slipped through the door.