Free The Next Move by Lauren Gallagher Page B

He’d taken a few bad falls before. He averaged a cast a year, had had a couple of concussions, but Eileen had never been this shaken when she called. "Shit, did he break something again? Or did he hit his head?"
              Chris’s hand moved to her shoulder, squeezing it gently.
              Eileen took a breath. "Kat…"
              Her sister’s voice shook something deep inside her, but Kat ignored it. Swallowed the fear. Tried to reason with the inevitable. "Damn it, I knew he’d break something again. So he’ll be in a cast for the spring and summer—"
    "Kat—"
    If I don’t let you tell me, then it isn’t true . "But then he’ll be out of the cast by the time snowboard season rolls around again." Her voice cracked and she sniffed. Chris squeezed her shoulder again and she took a breath. "So maybe this time he’ll learn to be more—"
              "Kat, he didn’t make it."
              "What?" Kat stiffened. She blinked, furrowing her brow, trying to comprehend the words, even though she’d known they were coming. "What do you mean?"
              "He didn’t make it." Eileen cleared her throat, and her voice was strained. "He’s gone, Kat."
              The words knocked the air out of Kat’s lungs and the room spun around her. She didn’t know if she collapsed against him or if he pulled her to him, but somehow she was in Chris’s arms, his voice murmuring words of comfort just beyond the edges of her awareness.
              Eileen’s voice penetrated her consciousness in pieces. "…lost control…" "…crashed…" "…it was quick, he didn’t suffer…" "…bringing him back to the States tomorrow…"
              "Kat, are you there?"
    The words that demanded a response besides passive,
    uncomprehending acceptance shook her into the present, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure if Eileen or Chris had asked. She was aware only of the words themselves, not the voice that had spoken them.
              "Kat?" Eileen’s voice prodded her.
              "I’m here," she said, her mouth dry.
              "I need to make some more calls. Are you going to be okay?"
              "I…" She didn’t know the answer. She didn’t even know what she felt. She didn’t feel a damned thing. "Yeah, I guess."
              "Okay. I’m going now. I’ll call you when we know more about the funeral."
              They exchanged a few more bits of small talk, saying 'I love you' and 'goodbye' more out of habit than anything. When the line went quiet, the only sound left in Kat’s consciousness was her own heart beating.
    The phone slid out of her hand. It hit her knee. Some odd, irrational part of her brain, still lost in denial about the magnitude of the news, tried to understand why it didn’t hurt. Why she didn’t feel it at all. It hit right on the kneecap. It should have hurt. She should have felt something. She should—
              Hands tightened around her arms, suddenly reminding her that she wasn’t alone. She looked up at Chris, staring at him, trying to remember when he’d arrived. Vaguely remembered that he’d been there all night.
              "Kat, what happened?"
              Just as her phone had fallen out of her hand, the words slipped off of her tongue. "Dylan’s dead."
              When the shock hit Chris, when his eyes widened and his lips parted with a startled breath, then it all became real.
              Her hand went to her mouth and tears blurred his face. Choking on the words, she whispered, "Oh my God, he’s dead…"
    Chris put his arms around her, stroking her hair gently as she broke down. "Jesus, I’m so sorry, babe," he whispered. His voice was tight with emotion. "I am so, so sorry."
    She didn’t know how long he held her like that, letting her cry and curse and bargain with God, but he made no attempt to pull away. Eventually,