Read Online Cherish (Covet #1.5) by Tracey Garvis Graves - Free Book Online

something so vulnerable, almost pathetic, about Daniel right now. He’s been doing well, and a setback like this, no matter how minor, has probably rattled him a bit.
    “All right. Let’s get you up.”
    He may still be underweight, but it’s no easy task getting a one-hundred-and-ninety-pound man up off the floor. At least his equilibrium seems to have returned to normal because, once we’re finally upright, his footing seems solid and he doesn’t sway. But he keeps his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder.
    “I don’t know what happened,” he says. “That came out of nowhere.”
    “It’s okay. The doctor said it might happen.” At that exact moment, I know we’re both thinking about the motorcycle parked in the garage and how it will be parked there indefinitely. “Do you want to sit on the couch?”
    “I want to go to bed. I’m tired.”
    “Okay.”
    He lets me lead him down the hall, the two of us doing an awkward side-by-side shuffle since he still has his arm around my shoulder and I’ve wrapped my arm tightly around his waist. In the bedroom, I pull back the covers and he slips under them.
    “Can I get you anything?”
    “No.” His voice sounds so dejected and I feel the prickle of tears.
    Before I leave the room he says, so softly I almost don’t hear it, “There are so many things I can’t remember.”
    “The memories will return eventually. We just have to be patient.”
    “Things about Gabriel.” His words slice through my heart because memories are the only thing Daniel has left of his son. Those memories are burned into my brain. All of them: the good, the bad, the horrifying, the heartbreaking. Every single one. After Gabriel died, I temporarily pushed them away, telling myself I would go back to them when I was stronger.
    “I’ll tell you all about him. I’ll fill in the blanks so you can remember.”
    He doesn’t answer.
    “I’ll just be out here if you need me,” I say, and then I close the door and let him be.

CHAPTER TWENTY
    JESSIE
    Now that we’re home, Daniel’s progress isn’t so easy to measure. There’s no way to accurately gauge where you are on the “get your life back” scale. Due in part to Daniel’s constant urging, Mimi and Jerry have finally left to resume their motor-home tour. Dylan’s whereabouts are temporarily unknown.
    My parents stopped by the other day, bringing with them my mom’s homemade peach pie, which has always been a favorite of Daniel’s. But for the most part, Daniel’s visitors have slowed to a trickle, and there is no longer a constant influx of policemen and friends, which is to be expected. Now it’s just the two of us, and I’m more aware of how narrowly focused our day-to-day activities have become.
    I still adhere to a schedule because the consistency is good for Daniel. He has outpatient therapy every morning, and then I work with him at home, doing the memory exercises the therapists asked us to complete. Daniel seems reluctant to go anywhere that isn’t a doctor’s office or a therapy appointment. The house is his sanctuary, and the only time he appears fully relaxed is when we’re home.
    I continue to suggest that we go out for lunch or dinner, but he’s not interested. Daniel used to beg me to leave the house with him after Gabriel died. To go out for a meal or to see a movie. I always said no. How dare my husband and I enjoy a night out when our son was dead? Now that I’m on the opposite side of it, I know how frustrating it feels to be turned down when all you’re trying to do is help someone. The more I try to coax him out of his shell, the more he seems to be withdrawing. He smiles less. He doesn’t laugh at all.
    “Do you want to come with me to Target?” I ask, trying my best not to speak to him like he’s a child and Target is an exciting outing.
    “I’ll stay here.”
    I start to ask him if he’s sure, but then I close my mouth and say, “Okay.” He’s a grown man. If he wanted to come with