When It's Right

by Victoria Denault

  Hunter stands and walks around his desk. “I like to have him here so he knows what’s going down. He’s more than a little stressed about this.”

  “Rightfully so,” she replies and extends her hand. “Sadie Braddock.”

  “Hunter Sullivan.” Hunter smiles at her and cracks the joke he always cracks when he meets people when I’m around. “He’s the Sullivan brawn and I’m the Sullivan brain.”

  She doesn’t laugh. All she manages is a smile, but it’s forced. Luckily, Hunter doesn’t take it personally, because I know she doesn’t mean it that way. Something is wrong with her and even if it’s not my place, I need to know what it is.

  “Hunter…”

  “I’m going to go get you a latte,” Hunter announces, knowing I’m about to ask him for a minute alone with her.

  “I don’t need coffee,” she argues, but her voice has no fight in it. “I just want to get this done.”

  “You’re early. It’s fine.” Hunter smiles and heads out.

  She looks at me, almost desperate, as she runs a hand through her hair and sighs so heavily it’s more of a shudder.

  “Talk to me, love,” I whisper. “How are things with your dad?”

  “He came home this morning,” she says and walks away from me, over to the chairs, but she doesn’t sit down.

  “That’s good, right?” I prod gently. “Everyone will calm down.”

  She nods and for a second, I swear I think I see her shudder again. “Everyone in my family is on better emotional ground…except me. I barely slept all night. My heart feels like it’s beating erratically. There’s a constant pressure in my chest and my stress headache I’ve had for two days is turning into a migraine. But I don’t have time for that because I have to work. It’s the only thing that will keep my mind occupied. And I have to get home before I go in for my twelve-hour shift so I can make sure my mom is doing okay and remind Winnie not to cry in front of my dad or fight with Ty in front of my mom.”

  “I think you need to sit down. Right now. And that’s all you need to do,” I tell her firmly but with a gentle tone. She looks confused by that command, so I reach out and hold her shoulders and guide her down into the chair. She’s resisting me a little at first, but once her butt touches the leather she sags, like a deflating balloon.

  “He’s not going to get a feeding tube,” she whispers so softly I almost don’t hear it. “The doctors say it’s time, and he said no.”

  “Is that why Jude was playing like a rabid animal last night?” He spent more time in the penalty box than he had all season. She nods and starts to pull her phone out of her purse. “That reminds me, I have to call Jude. He told me to let him know when Dad got home this morning and if he settled in okay. I forgot. He won’t go over there himself because he knows Dad watched him be an idiot on the ice last night, and he wants to avoid the lecture.”

  I take her phone out of her hand and squat down in front of her. “Sadie…It’s time to concentrate on you, not them.”

  “I can’t. We’re losing him. The countdown clock just jumped forward. I have to keep them together for his sake. I won’t let his last few months with us be filled with Jude’s penalty minutes and Winnie’s drunken outbursts and Dixie’s uncontrollable sobs. He’s always strong for us. I’m going to be strong for him.”

  I don’t even think she knows she’s crying until I reach out and wipe away the tears with the pads of my thumbs. Her big cornflower blue eyes get bigger, like she’s terrified at the realization she’s breaking. I do the only thing I can, the thing it feels like I was born to do: I pull her to me and I hold her. She fights it at first, her body rigid and her breath held, but then, all at once, she lets go.

  As she sobs in my arms, I rub her back and hold her tight. Over her shoulder I see Hunter walk back in with a latte and immediately turn and walk back out. She doesn’t notice, and I don’t move. I just let her continue because she needs it desperately, and I know if I don’t hold her and comfort her, no one will.

  “I’m sorry,” she says after about fifteen minutes of crying so hard that the shoulder of my shirt is soaked and stained with her mascara. “I’m here to help you, not weep all over you.”

  She starts to pull away, and I reluctantly let her. As she wipes at her wet cheeks, embarrassed, I run a hand over her hair, smoothing it down. “It’s okay. Everyone in your life needs you to be strong, but I don’t. You hold up everyone else. Let me hold you up.”

  Her eyes are on mine, filled with a pain and sadness that crushes me. “You can’t do that. Not now.”

  She’s right. I know she’s right. But I don’t care about logic. I just care about her.

  This time Hunter knocks as he enters. Sadie stands quickly, wiping at her eyes again. I stand too and grab a box of tissue off the bookcase beside Hunter’s desk and hold it out to her. Sadie grabs a couple and dabs at her eyes again. “Sorry,” my brother says. “I just have to be in court in an hour, so we need to start this.”

  “Of course.” The broken girl is gone and Sadie’s back to being the reliable, confident, calm woman way too many people rely on. And here I am relying on her too. Fuck, this sucks.

  For the next half hour Hunter takes detailed testimony about what went on the night I brought Charlie into the ER. Sadie praises everything about how I handled the situation and how good I was with Charlie.

  “Griffin was kind and gentle but firm with Charlie for her mistake, and he was loving and empathetic to her when she got embarrassed about why it happened,” Sadie explains to my brother as the little red light on his tape recorder blinks rhythmically as it records her. “He reminded me of my dad. And my dad is the best.”

  Hunter asks a few more technical questions about how Charlie was treated and gets her to explain, on the record, that we followed all policy and procedure, and the hospital was not legally required to tell Lauren. By the time the interview is done, she’s composed again. There’s no sign she was just broken, sobbing in my arms, except for the slightly puffy look to her eyes and the slightly red tinge to her cheeks and nose.

  “Thanks for doing this, Sadie,” Hunter says when he shuts off the recorder.

  “I hope it helps Griffin,” she says, but she won’t look at me. It’s like she’s talking about someone who isn’t in the room.

  “Thanks. I hope we run into each other again sometime, for a better reason,”

  Hunter smiles at her as she stands up and grabs her purse off the floor. I stand with her. “Let me walk you out.”

  “You shouldn’t,” she replies quietly but firmly.

  “But I’m going to,” I counter, and as she starts for the door, I follow.

  We pass Debra, and I hold open the door for her to Hunter’s small office and we walk down the hall, past other offices, toward the elevator. I stand so close to her that our hands keep brushing. It’s on purpose. I can see the struggle on her beautiful face. She wants to step away, so we don’t touch, but she doesn’t. She knows we’re just making things harder on each other, but she can’t help but let it happen either.

  I hit the call button for the elevator for her. “Thank you. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, so the fact that you made time for me—to do this—is incredible.” I turn and look at her. “You are incredible.”

  “You’re my unicorn,” she says softly with that playful smile that instantly makes my dick start to get hard. “I can’t say no to a unicorn. It’s worse than looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “You’re a little nuts, you know that?” I chuckle softly under my breath.

  Her smile deepens. “Oh, I’m a lot crazy. In the best possible way.”

  The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. There’s an elderly lady inside. Sadie glances up at me.

  “Thank you. For being there for that…meltdown.” I nod. She just stares up at me. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It’s okay if it does,” I say.

  “I wish that were true.”

  The doors start t
o close, and she jumps through them so quickly, they bounce back a bit. The elderly lady frowns. Sadie just gives her a dazzling “I’m sorry” smile. I start to walk on too, but Sadie looks up at me, and her eyes are like a brick wall, right up in my face, telling me no. So I stop and watch the doors close, cutting her off from me physically. Mentally, she’s already started to do that too.

  23

  Sadie

  My heart sinks when I open the front door to the house and hear what sounds like a million voices. I had a hard overnight shift after a giant car accident and the vicious flu running rampant through the city right now had our ER overflowing. But it was a bit of a blessing in disguise because I was so busy I could almost ignore that aching in my chest over…well, everything. My life makes me ache. I’m not a psychiatric nurse, but even I know that’s not good. Not even close.

  “Hey! How was work?” Jude asks. He’s the first to notice me as I toe out of my shoes and hang my coat on the rack in the hall. He looks at my scrubs. “Gross. What is that?”

  I look down at a yellowish-brown stain on the front of my shirt. “Bodily fluid of some kind. Maybe multiple kinds.”

  “Okay. Again, gross.”

  “Kidding. It’s mustard from my hot dog at lunch. But stop being a baby. You get blood on your jerseys all the time,” I remind him as I walk past him. He turns and follows me as I go into the kitchen. It’s the room farthest away from all the voices. I think the whole family is in the den, and I don’t feel like joining them.

  “Yeah, but it’s like a badge of honor, because I’ve earned the bloodshed, either mine or someone else’s,” Jude explains. “Badge of honor, battle wounds and all that.”

  “I’ve earned this.” I point to the stain and start to sniff. Something smells incredible, and I look to see the oven is on. “Because I saved every life tonight. No flatlines.”

  Jude lifts his hand, palm out, and I high-five him. “My sister, the real hero.”

  “Damn fucking right.” I smile back and then crack the oven door. “You got Winnie to make her shakshuka?”

  He grins. “She volunteered. I guess miracles do exist.”

  Winnie is an incredible cook, just like our mom, and this savory Middle Eastern egg dish she perfected is a family favorite. But since we moved here, she hasn’t even turned on the stove. She also used to love to knit and took Zumba classes every night, but now she doesn’t do any of that. She doesn’t teach either, because she swears there’s no point getting her California credentials when she’s heading back to Toronto, and Ty, the guy she can’t stop bickering with, eventually. She tutors kids after school with a private company, but she doesn’t even have a spark for that anymore like she used to. So this change in her behavior brings me a smidgen of relief.

  “Everyone is in the den, and Win said the food will be ready soon,” he says. “Why don’t you grab one of those gross juices you like and join them and eat with us before you hit the hay?”

  Okay. He’s acting weird. Normal Jude would make some snarky remark about how I should go straight to bed so I didn’t eat all the shakshuka.

  “I’m not in the mood for a Braddock family function,” I say and yawn. “I have a brutal shift so I’m probably going to grab a kombucha—which FYI isn’t gross, and does more good for your body than your stupid salt lamp—and head to bed.”

  “Come on, Sadie. Give us a little love,” Jude begs, and again I’m weirded out. “We’re all just relaxing. Nobody’s off the rails, needy or bitchy. Give us a chance.”

  “What the fuck is up with you?” I can’t help but ask.

  He opens the fridge and hands me a kombucha. Winnie pops up in the doorway from the hall and smiles at me brightly. Too brightly. “Hey! Glad you’re home. I just have to warm up the naan and we should be ready to eat.”

  She pushes us both gently out of the way and starts to zip around the kitchen. I survey the scene, growing more and more skeptical. Out of the corner of my eye I see movement through the arched doorway in the dining room as the rest of the family gathers. Eli and Dixie go to the buffet hutch and start laying out dishes and utensils, and Mom wheels Dad up to his place at the head of the table, and Zoey gets Declan situated in his high chair. They all call out happy greetings when they see me.

  “Hey, Sadie, when is your next day off?” Dixie asks.

  “Day after tomorrow,” I reply.

  “I’m booking a girls’ day,” she replies.

  “But it’s a Wednesday, and you have work,” I remind her. “Winnie has tutoring.”

  “I can take it off. The other tutors can cover,” Winnie replies as she grabs the butter out of the fridge. “I am not passing up a massage and a pedicure. Or time with you.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Because my toes are in desperate need of attention. And who passes up a massage?” she counters as she pulls the two cast-iron skillets with the delicious egg dishes out of the oven and puts them down on the stovetop.

  “I mean, why do you want time with me? I see you every single day.” My mouth waters as the heavenly scent of her shakshuka fills the room. My willpower is gone. I’m not going to bed without some of that in my belly.

  She shrugs. “I know, but we desperately need a mimosa, massage, pedicure, and shopping day. Like how we used to be.”

  “Don’t question it, Sadie. It’s a good idea,” my dad advises.

  I walk into the dining room and drop down into a chair after nuzzling Declan’s cheek and giving him a kiss that makes him grin. He’s just like his daddy: he loves female attention. I smile and actually feel myself start to loosen up a bit; the tension I’ve been carrying like a backpack starts to get lighter. I roll my shoulders.

  “We can be normal,” Winnie tells me way too enthusiastically, and she carries in one of the cast-iron pans and puts it down on a trivet. “You don’t have to worry about us.”

  “Why would you say that?” Every fiber of my being is tingling. Something happened. I look around the table, and everyone is looking at anything but me.

  “Jude…” I say.

  “It’s been too long since we have had this amazing meal. We shouldn’t let it get cold,” Jude says.

  “Jude Jackass Braddock.”

  “Sadie!” my mom warns.

  Jude sighs. Dixie jumps in. “So your boyfriend might have mentioned to Elijah that we need to take it easy on you for a while.”

  “Yeah, he basically said that we’re leaning on you like a wall and you’re starting to crumble,” Jude adds, and my anger surges so fast I feel light-headed.

  “I don’t have a boyfriend.” My voice is shaking so hard that it makes Zoey’s face constrict with concern.

  “You prefer the term ‘lover’?” Winnie asks and scrunches up her nose.

  “Or boy toy?” Eli jokes.

  “Man toy,” Dixie corrects.

  “Senior citizen toy,” Jude adds.

  “I’m not seeing him anymore,” I bark back, and the whole table falls silent instantly. “And he had no right talking to any of you about anything. I’m fine. I don’t need you all to act like pod people. It’s a hard thing we’re dealing with.”

  I look at my dad. He’s looking back at me with such sympathy in his eyes, it makes me shake. He’s dying right in front of us, every second of the day, and he’s got sympathy for me. That’s the last thing I wanted. Ever. I stand up.

  “Wait a minute…” Jude’s eyes cloud with concern. “Why did you break up with him? What did he do?”

  Oh, great. Now my brother wants to punch him. “He didn’t do anything. I ended it. He’s dealing with some stuff and I’m dealing with stuff, and I can’t do it. I just can’t. I knew I couldn’t. I told you I couldn’t and I can’t.”

  I am shaking, from my toes all the way up, like my body is suffering its own personal earthquake. My mom stands up, her hazel eyes wide with fear. “Sadie, sweetheart, come here.”

  “No, Mom, I need…to sleep.” I step away from the table. Every single one of them sta
nds up too. As I walk away from the table, through the kitchen, Jude, Winnie, and Dixie all start to follow.

  “Give her space,” I hear my dad command as I reach the hall and grab my purse off the floor by the door, where I dropped it when I came in. “Let her go.”

  I don’t turn around, but I’m not surprised when the stampede of footsteps behind me stops. I march all the way down the hall to my room and then close and lock the door before falling facefirst into my bed. How dare Griffin do that! We can’t be together. He agreed—easily. So why the hell is he still inserting himself into my life? Why is he looking out for me? How am I supposed to stop myself from falling in love with him if he keeps doing this?

  I storm into my bathroom, grab the melatonin out of the medicine cabinet, and take two because I know without it, even after a grueling twelve-hour shift, I won’t sleep now, and all I want to do is be unconscious so I can’t think about any of this.

  I pull off my scrubs and dump them on the floor in the vicinity of the laundry hamper and drop onto my bed, pulling the covers up over my head. I just want to disappear.

  I wake up five and a half hours later. I’m still cocooned under the covers. I was dreaming throughout—chaotic, nonsensical, unrelated dreams—but I only remember random moments of it all. Griffin, shirtless. Winnie crying. And me caught in the ocean, in pitch blackness, fighting wave after wave. That’s been my stress dream since I was a kid, so it doesn’t surprise me, but as always it leaves me feeling less refreshed than I would normally be after sleeping for so long. I sigh, and my brain is flooded with the memories of what went on with my family, and I suddenly feel tired again.

  But I am also hungry and there’s no denying it. I have to emerge from my room and face my family or die of starvation. Feeling numb, I walk into my bathroom again. I take a scalding hot shower, washing my hair and body twice because I just feel gross, inside and out. Afterward I towel off and walk, like a robot, over to my dresser and throw on leggings and a T-shirt and reluctantly open the door to my bedroom.