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“Thanks,” I whisper. I feel cold as she takes her hand off mine. I want to go home more than ever, but Howland will never allow it. A thought jumps into my head. “Hey,” I whisper before she opens the door. “If you were to guess, why do you think he wants me?”
The nurse shrugs but gives it some thought. “Not sure, but he only has one kin left. Maybe he wants to make sure he has a backup daughter.”
It sounds crazy to me, but Howland is madly self-centered. “Thanks,” I sigh, placing my head down on the pillow.
The door opens as she’s about to exit, and Wyatt walks in carrying some clothing in his hand. He walks over to the bed and presents me with a pair of pale blue scrubs. He looks sheepishly at his find and spreads it out on the foot of the bed.
“It’s all I could find,” he explains, “We can stop by your place and pick up something else.”
I bolt up so fast he takes a quick step back. I want to kiss him on his pouty lips and run my fingers through his messy hair. I must be feeling better. “Hey, do you think you could find another pair?” I ask him.
Wearing the borrowed scrubs, I toss my shorts and T-shirt in a trash can as we leave the hospital. Wyatt scored another pair of scrubs off the sympathetic nurse, and he looks at them in his hands as we walk toward his Viper. He wants an explanation, but under my breath, I tell him to wait until we’re inside the car. God forbid if anyone overhears my plan.
“I want to see my mother in Massachusetts,” I say, buckling up. “Will you drive me there?”
“It’s Sunday, and we’ve got all day,” He pulls out of the parking spot, and my whole body relaxes as we leave that place, “Why the scrubs?”
“I want to make sure that I can see her, even if it means sneaking in.”
He frowns while signaling to make a turn. “I don’t get it. Why would we need a disguise to get in?”
“I’m not sure if we do, but I’m not taking any chances.” I tell Wyatt what I heard from the nurse and emphasize my suspicion that my mother might be in trouble. How Rawlins had to call so I could speak to my mother on the phone. How I want to see her, but I’m always put off.
Wyatt is quiet, and I’m afraid he’s going to tell me no and then talk common sense until I agree. He’ll point out that I’ve been the source of enough trouble, and I’m dangerously close to being put out of Stonehaven. I’m certain I’ll be sitting in Foxworth House Monday morning. I was almost raped, but once again it’s my fault because I don’t know how to behave. The anger rises up in me, but I tamp it down. Later, I’ll scream my throat raw when I’m alone in the private bathroom.
He takes a deep breath. “We better stop somewhere and get the right kind of shoes. You can’t go clomping around in your boots.”
I grin like a satisfied cat that’s already eaten the mouse. Wyatt is on my side and a definite partner in crime. I glance over at his profile as he pulls onto the turnpike. He cracks the window, no matter the temperature, and the fast wind plays with his hair. His chiseled good looks and his focused gaze put me at ease as if we can never fail. I know I’ll see my mother today.
“Did you try to call?” Wyatt asks, “Are you sure they won’t let you in? Maybe we don’t need to sneak in.”
I didn’t and feel a little foolish. And I also believed everything that nurse said without knowing a thing about her. Maybe Attleboro will welcome me, and someone will wonder why I didn’t come sooner. I’ll look like a fool dressed in scrubs. Maybe I just like trouble, and that approach needs to stop.
Or I could be right.
“Astrid, don’t overthink it,” Wyatt sighs. “Call and ask them about visiting hours. That’s all.”
“You’re right,” I reply. But a three-minute phone call confirms my initial suspicions that something is terribly off. Visitors have to be preapproved before their visits and can only visit at certain times—all during the middle of the weekday when I’m in class.
“Don’t take it personally, Astrid,” replies Wyatt, “They do it to everyone.”
My voice has a little snip and snaps. “What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t go looking for problems to fix. Or trouble to get into.”
Wyatt frowns, and his jaw works under his skin. “It means the rehab probably stops anyone who tries to walk into the facility. They’re probably trying to keep the place clean. You know what I mean. So don’t be surprised if you don’t get your way today.”
“You make it sound as if I’m spoiled,” I reply defensively, “I work for what I get.”
“Oh, you work it, slayer,” he replies coolly, “Like a barbarian ransacking a village. We all better watch out when you don’t get your way.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I glare at his profile as my face burns with irritation. Wyatt’s eyes never leave the road.
Deep down, I get Wyatt’s meaning. If there’s a sensible way to accomplish something, it’ll never occur to me until I’m standing knee deep in the ashes of the catastrophe I caused. I let loose and get physical to take what I need. What I think I am owed. I’m supposed to be turning into Astrid Howland, but I’m not. I’m turning Astrid Howland into me.
“Never mind,” he mutters, “You had a hard enough time last night. I’m sorry. How are you feeling?”
I hug my arms to my body. “Okay, but I have to admit I should’ve listened. I just never expected that to happen. But who would? Too late to cry over it now.”
Wyatt places his hand on my knee and gives it a light squeeze. “Don’t be so hard on yourself for caring about your friends. Caring about other people should never be thought of as a personal shortcoming.”
