by Stacey Lynn
I’m already shaking my head. Disbelief. The pressure. The expense. “I don’t…I don’t know if we can afford that.”
“That’s something to look into, but it does take insurance.”
Which means it might not shove her over the edge into bankruptcy, but maybe closer to it than she already is. Still…I want her to have the best.
“How far away is it?”
Depending on where it is on the coast, it could be two or six hours away. I still want her close. But the way the doctor describes this place, I can already see my mom loving it, at least on good days. She loves gardening and horses and the water.
“Three hours. And they have family visiting hours every weekend, although I know they recommend waiting at least two weeks so patients can be settled first.” Her hand squeezes my arm. “But that’s long-term. Right now, I’m focused on the immediate- and short term. She’s given us permission to speak with you, but you have to realize these decisions will still be made by her. She might refuse and if so, there isn’t much we can do.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Good. I know you want your mom healthy, and I can promise you she’ll soon have a team of professionals around her who want the same.”
My emotions overflow. It sounds like heaven. People capable of helping her—not just me, struggling with everything.
“Okay. Is there anything else you need from me?”
She nods her head toward my mom’s door. “I’m going to speak with her for a few minutes, and then I’ll let you get back to her.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
She gives me a brief hug. I don’t know if it’s professional or not, but good freaking heaven, it feels so good. “We’ll do everything we can to get her and keep her healthy, Willow. I promise you that.”
And the rest will be up to my mom and her own determination.
Dr. Mara heads into the room and I collapse into a chair. For the first time in months I have hope, plus a sizable amount of fear. What if my mom says no to all of it?
* * *
—
“Miss Parks?” A gentle nudge brushes my knee and my eyes slide open. I jolt, banging the metal chair against the wall and then take in the man in blue scrubs in front of me and the hallway around me.
“Oh, sorry.” I brush hair out of my face. It still smells like the salty ocean and I cringe. I must look a mess. The young male in front of me, dark black hair curled at the edges of his ears, doesn’t seem to mind. “How long have I been sleeping?”
The last thing I remember is falling into the chair with relief settling over me like a warm blanket.
“I’m not sure. But your mom is awake and asking for you.”
“Thank you.” I bolt out of my chair, shoving more hair out of my face and off my shoulders. I hope her room has a shower.
“You’re welcome.”
He turns and heads toward the mouth of the hallway, and I inhale a deep breath, breathing in the stench of medicines and that stale odor hospitals carry. My hand trembles as I wrap it around the door handle and turn. My mom’s been sleeping since I arrived and I haven’t spoken with her. What in the world am I supposed to say to her now?
It takes me a few shaky breaths to push the door open. As I enter, my gaze immediately falls on my mom and before I close the space, I realize I’m rushing to her, my vision already blurring from tears.
“Mom.” I cry and collapse onto her shoulder, practically falling over onto the bed.
Her embrace is weak but instant and she settles a hand on the back of my head. “Oh, Willow, honey. I’m so sorry to scare you.”
I’ll take her apology a million times, it’s so very good to see her. To breathe in the gentle scent of her shampoo, still there beneath the hospital sheets and spotted gown.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I cry, shoulders shaking. She holds me while I cry, and beneath me, her own shoulders tremble and she sniffs, telling me she’s crying, too. We stay like this until I get my own emotions settled, inhaling deeply, breathing out slowly, until my heart slows. Minutes pass. A nearby monitor steadily chirps and clicks along with the tick of a clock somewhere in the room.
I sit back, pushing Mom’s hair off her face. She’s pale. The dark circles under her eyes almost give her the appearance of a boxer who lost poorly in the match of his life. But she smiles, and it’s so sweet my heart trips. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
She licks her cracked lips and I reach to the side table, hand her a large glass of water with a straw. I hold it out to her, and she takes a sip before cradling the cup in her lap.
I give her time. I have nothing but that to give her now.
“Your dad called last week.” Her chin trembles and she looks down at her lap. Wisps of her faded blond hair fall and hide her profile.
Anger makes my hands tighten and I taste demands on my lips, swallowing them down and leaving a bitter taste in my throat. “And?” It doesn’t sound too angry or forceful. She’s fragile, possible suicidal.
She still cringes at my tone and sighs. “I thought…stupid…I thought maybe he wanted to come home. He was so kind on the phone.”
“The day you dressed nice.” I realize it all makes sense. He must have called the night before. It’s the only explanation. Why she had looked dressed to go to work. “Did you see him?”
“He rescheduled. Saw him Friday. He asked me for dinner and I was so…so hopeful.” Tears drip down her cheeks. The adult in me wants to wipe them away and hold her. The daughter in me wants to roll my eyes and stomp my feet and scream at her to wake up.
The reason she had been ditzy on the phone. Happy. Wondering when I was coming home. Forgetting everything I told her.
As soon as I charge my phone my first call will be to my father. Do you see what you’ve done NOW?
I wouldn’t care enough to hear his response. But if his throat was close to me, my hands would have a hard time not wrapping around it.
“I take it that didn’t go so well,” I say after several minutes. Her tears are silent and this woman…this sweet and sad woman who did with Dad what I did with Scott, only for so long she’s truly forgotten who she is. She’d consider taking him back?
I can’t fathom it.
“He’s upset I haven’t signed.” Her eyes come to me, already bloodshot and swollen. Red rimming the edges. She takes another sip of water. “Did you know he’s in Seattle? Says he’s met someone. Wants to get moving on with his life.”
Her eyes are still on me, glassy, hopeful. Good grief. Would she even want to hear the truth? He hasn’t bothered to call me, either. “I haven’t spoken to Dad in months, Mom.”
It’s amazing the man I once admired could be so full of bullshit. I must be more like my mom than I would like to hope. Blinded to a jerk’s shortcomings. Desperate for love.
It’s a good thing I left Trey before he could see how weak I truly am. What would I give of myself to keep him happy? How much would he take? I’m not even sure if it’s any more the fault of the men we choose or if it’s our own inability to know who we are, what we deserve. Our worth.
“So what happened after?”
“I don’t know,” she says, and her voice cracks. “I just woke up and saw the papers. The house, the memories. I only meant to have a glass of wine, courage to give him what he wants, and then Cara was there…the in-between part is foggy.”
My hands, still clenched into fists at the memory of my dad reappearing, finally loosen. The tension bunching my shoulders eases.
Accidental. It has to be. I will it to be true.
I grab her hand with both of mine and squeeze. “You need help getting back, Mom. Please, let them help you.”
“I don’t know if I can do it without him.”
“I think you’re going to have to learn how. I can’t bear
the thought of another accident like this.”
She sniffs and slowly her hand turns, squeezes mine back.
Hopefully the memory of charcoal poured down her throat to pump her stomach is big enough and dark enough to get her to take the first step.
* * *
—
It’s the middle of the afternoon before I’m finally showered and dressed. After speaking longer with my mom, the doctors had come in to speak to her. I listened outside the door long enough to hear my mom’s shaking voice ask, “What’s the next step?”
Before I could collapse into the chair again and fall asleep, I had grabbed my suitcase and come home to shower. Grab her clean clothes and items from a list of what she could have at the short-term facility where she’ll start getting help.
I don’t even think to plug my phone in until I realize it’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon and Cara is probably worried sick about both me and my mom so I plug it in, wait for it to turn on, while I toss some toiletries into my mom’s bag.
My phone begins chirping like a flock of baby birds, shrill and constant, and I grab it to turn off the notifications.
Trey. Trey, Trey, Trey.
His name is listed on the text messages at almost the double the amount of Cara’s. And just seeing his name sends a flutter through me, my heart most of all. It’s silly. There’s no point in falling for this man.
I pull up Cara’s contact without reading her texts. She’s called twice as many times as she’s texted anyway.
“Oh, thank goodness!” She heaves a sigh as soon as she answers. No hello from her. “I’ve been so worried.”
She’s breathless, and in the background her son Jimmy is crying, but that fades.
“I know. I’m so sorry. My phone died and I’ve just now turned it back on.” I turn to continue packing but with my phone plugged in I can’t, so I prop myself up against the wall.
“How’s your mom?”
“Agreeing to get help. Says everything was an accident.” I drop my head back and it hits the wall with a thud. “My dad. He started calling her, wanted to meet. She got hopped up on hope he was coming back to apologize.”
“Oh. That’s not good.”
“Nope. Pretty much sucks, but I overheard her with her doctors agreeing to some treatment so I guess…I guess she’s doing that.”
“Well, that’s good. A step forward for sure.” Cara’s voice is so kind and soft it almost cuts through the small hold I’ve managed to grasp on my emotions. Damn, I’m lucky to have such a good friend. “And you? How are you?”
“Tired.” So tired of everything and all the unknowns.
I take one weekend to enjoy myself, start falling for a guy who’s way too good for my messed-up life, and everything else goes to hell in a handbasket.
“I bet,” Cara says, “Have you had any sleep? I can go stay with your mom if you need some rest. Or bring you some food.”
“No.” I zip up my mom’s bag and hitch it over my shoulder. Which doesn’t work because I’m still connected to the phone cord, too. “Ugh. Sorry, I’m all tangled.” Cara giggles, and for the first time in what feels like forever, even if it’s only been a day, I huff a laugh. “She’s getting discharged soon so I need to get back. I just ran home to get cleaned up and pack some things for her.”
“Okay, but if you need me call me. And don’t think I’m forgetting to ask for an update about Trey next time, either.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. It was a weekend thing and the weekend is over.”
Which is completely opposite of what I was hoping for the last time we spoke.
“Willow—”
I can’t tell if it’s pity or scolding in her voice and I’m not looking for either. Not now. “See you later honey. Love you!” I hang up before she can get another word in, and when I press end call, my home screen shows the amount of texts and missed calls I still haven’t looked at from Trey.
Not going to happen now, either.
A clean break is probably for the best anyway. Shoving my phone into my back pocket, I grab my charger cord and then hitch my mom’s bag onto my shoulder, successfully this time.
In ten minutes, I’m out the door and tossing my phone into a cupholder in my car and heading back to the hospital. To make sure my mom checks into a short-term mental-health facility.
As far as Sundays go, it’s absolutely not my best.
Chapter 24
Trey
The two hours of sleep I got on the plane leave me foggy and sleepier than had I not slept at all. I’m still kicking myself for not following Willow last night, even after she told me to stay at the wedding. It took Caitlin smacking me across the back of my head and Corbin calling me a dumbass to realize that my hesitation and shock at Willow’s words telling me she didn’t need me had cost me the time I needed to get to the airport and follow her.
Having missed my chance to catch the plane with Willow, I plopped my dumb ass down at the bar.
Three drinks in, I had finally gotten smart enough to cancel the plane with Dean so I could grab an earlier flight. It was the first flight out and the only seat available was in the very back of the plane, right outside the bathroom. Any other day I would have noticed the noise, the constant bumping of passengers walking by, as well as the stewardesses, but not this morning. I was too focused on the silent phone in my hand. The flight was miserable, helped only by sleep that finally dragged me under after not having found it all night, too worried about Willow. Too freaked out about her lack of returning a single text.
For the first time, I’ve found a woman I want for longer than a few days, and I know I’m not the only one of us to feel the connection between us. The worry for her as well as her mom is practically heart-attack inducing.
Which leaves me debating on my next move as I hustle through the airport, pace the luggage carousel for my bag, and finally order a car.
Rush to the hospital to see if she’s there?
Head home and wait for her to call me back?
Go camp out at her house and wait for her to show up there like some crazed stalker?
As soon as the thoughts enter my mind, I kick them out. This time there’s no hesitation.
I find my Uber at the designated location and do a swift scan of the license plate as he climbs out of his car and meets me at the trunk. He’s young, with bloodshot eyes and dark circles under them, messy, long brown hair shoved into a bun on the top of his head, he looks almost as tired as I feel and for a second I think I should offer to drive for both of us.
“Trey Kollins?”
“Yup. Portland General.”
“You got it.”
My mind races as he pulls out of the airport parking maze and swerves through the thankfully relatively light Portland traffic.
It’s only when he pulls up to the hospital entrance and I’m stepping out of the car, I realize one massive inconvenience in all of this. I knock on the passenger side window and he rolls it down.
“Hey, John?” I ask, after pulling up the Uber app to remind me of his name. We haven’t spoken a word, although the jazz music he has playing has helped calm my racing thoughts somewhat.
“Yes?”
“This is going to sound ridiculous and I know it’s not your job, but is there any way you can do another run for me? Delivering my luggage to my building?”
“Uh.” His brows knot together and he runs a hand across his mouth. “I mean, it’s not normal—”
“Big tip. A couple hundred. There’s security at the front desk, you can drop it off there. I’d really appreciate it.”
His expression has already changed at the mention of a couple hundred dollars. It’s a risk, but if he loses my shit or doesn’t do it, it’s just stuff. Willow is inside this hospital and worried and probably blaming herself, as well as
possibly me for not being here, when her mom needed her. I’m frantic to get to her, but the last thing I want is my luggage dragging behind me.
“Yeah, sure, man. But you need to change the destination so I don’t get in trouble.”
Thankfully, money talks. It takes me a few minutes and before I step back, I show him the tip amount. With a wink and a fake salute, throws his car in drive. “Thanks, man.”
Good man, that John. I might request his services again.
Then, as quickly as I exited the car, I’m hurrying into the hospital, bypassing the information desk since I don’t even know Willow’s mom’s name, and I’m headed to the mental-health floor. It’s a gamble, based on the small information she shared with me, but it pays off.
Before I turn a corner, her loud, angry voice echoes off the mustard-yellow hospital walls.
“You did this,” she yells, and I turn the corner, stunned at the fury in her voice. I stop, seeing her halfway down the hall. Vaguely, I’m aware she’s changed her clothes since last night. Her blond hair is a mass of waves around her shoulders, not braided or pulled back as usual. And while she might be facing my direction, her venom and one pointed finger are focused solely on the man in front of her with his back to me. “You ran. You turned your back on her. You left her with nothing. So no, you don’t get to show up now. It’s exactly what she’s been thinking you’ll do, come back and everything will be fine. I won’t let you swoop in and leave again, throwing her into another tailspin. It’s exactly what put her here in the first place.”
Her dad. It has to be. And by the stern tone in his voice, he’s not enjoying the scolding by his adult daughter.
“I couldn’t live like that anymore, Willow. I didn’t abandon her—”