Count Your Lucky Stars •CHAENNIE•

Chapter 20

Roseanne's tongue darted out, sweeping against the lip she'd chewed red. She crawled off the bed, swiping her sweater off the floor. "What's if he's not okay? What if he's-"

"Whoa, whoa." Jennie slipped out of bed, wincing when a twinge of pain shot up the side of her foot from putting too much weight on it. Walking was going to be a real bitch. "You need to take a deep breath, okay? Breathe in with me."

Panicking wouldn't solve anything.

Sweater clutched in front of her, Roseanne pinched her lips together and mimicked Jennie as she inhaled through her nose. Jennie held it, lifting a hand to make sure Roseanne would do the same. She exhaled slowly, lowering her hand. Roseanne's exhale was ragged, her shoulders sagging and curling forward. She scrunched her eyes shut, looking upset but no longer on the verge of hyperventilating.

"What if he isn't fine?" Roseanne repeated, voice breaking.

Jennie's heart clenched at the sound, at the way Roseanne scrunched her eyes shut.

"He promised to tell you if he wasn't. I was there, remember? I heard your entire phone call. He told you he didn't want you to worry."

Roseanne turned her sweater right side out and slipped it on over her head. Static caused strands of her hair to stick straight up in multiple directions. "Exactly. He doesn't want me to worry. All the more reason for him to keep me in the dark."

"Don't you think"-Jennie winced, already anticipating Roseanne's reaction to what she was about to say-"if your dad says he's fine, you should trust him?"

She swept her fingers through her hair, wincing when they snagged on a tangle. "I told you. He drove himself to the hospital when he had a heart attack, Jen. He only let the nurse call me when he had to stay overnight."

Jennie blew out her breath. "Okay, I can see where something like that might not engender a whole lot of trust. That's-that's shitty. I completely agree, and I-I can understand that your brain is probably going to the worst possible place right now." Anxiety and fear weren't always rational. Fuck, most of the time they were the complete opposite. Brains were assholes sometimes. "But, offering an outside perspective, I don't think the fact that he's selling the house necessarily means there's something wrong with his health." She cracked a smile. "Who knows? Maybe he's selling because he plans to retire and wants to move down to one of those all-inclusive retirement villas in Florida. You know they have a huge nudist community right outside of Tampa? I watched this whole show on HGTV on it. Everyone carries a little personal towel around so when they visit they can sit on that instead of directly on the furniture. And they specifically cater to retirees. Maybe your dad wants to broaden his horizons."

She wiggled her brows, managing to get Roseanne to crack a smile.

"Dad hates Florida." Roseanne gathered her hair off her neck and swept it up into a bun, securing it with the scrunchie on her wrist. Several wisps of hair fell loose, framing her face. "We have cousins in Kissimmee. Last time we visited, all he did was complain about how hot and humid it was." She sighed, shoulders slumping. "I just wish I knew why he didn't tell me. I grew up in that house. I still have boxes in my old bedroom, clothes in the closet I didn't bring with me-all my yearbooks are still on a bookshelf in the hall. I don't get it."

Jennie hobbled around the bed until she could grab Roseanne's hand. She tangled their fingers together and squeezed, drawing her closer so she could wrap an arm around her waist. Roseanne ducked her chin, smiling down at their hands softly, expression subdued but no longer looking like she was on the verge of making herself sick with worry. Progress. "Until you talk to him, I think you're just spinning your wheels, Rosie. You need the whole story."