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“I can picture that.”
When she doesn’t continue, I hug her a little tighter before asking, “She got sick?”
“Yeah,” she whispers. After a few seconds, she seems to find her voice again. “At first she was just tired or didn’t feel like eating. She was always a picky eater, so our parents didn’t think much of it. Then she was in pain but doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong, so they said she must be making it up for attention.” Her hands ball into fists. “I knew Hayley. She wasn’t a liar. She was suffering and no one would listen. Made me so damn mad that they didn’t take her seriously until it was too late.”
“What about your parents?”
“They believed the doctors.”
“Didn’t they take her somewhere else? Or to see another doctor?”
“You’ve been to my house. You know I didn’t grow up with no silver spoon or nothin’.”
“I know you and your mom both work hard.”
She shrugs. “My dad had a decent job at the time. Okay insurance. But it still didn’t cover everything. Put my parents into a load of debt. When Hayley was in the hospital, they’d fight constantly. Momma couldn’t work because she needed to be with Hayley.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it was on them.”
She hums and shifts to the side. “Hayley always wanted to sing with me. We were going to be a duo. I’d bring my guitar and sing to her in the hospital.” She lets out a sad laugh. “I guess that’s why it hit me so hard today.”
“Today would’ve been rough on anyone.”
She pulls away from me and grabs another tissue, wiping her face. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“I miss her. She would’ve been eighteen. Just graduatin’ from high school. I can’t even…”
My own uncomfortable memories of loss bubble to the surface. I open my mouth to say I’m sorry but it’s such a useless sentiment, I reach over and squeeze her hand instead.
“Anyway,” she continues, “Dream Makers did a lot for us when Hayley was sick. They sent our whole family to Disneyland. To this day, I think that trip helped Hayley hang on a little longer. I saw what a huge difference they made for a lot of other kids too. So the first time they contacted me, there was no way I’d turn them down.”
Admiration for Shelby fills my chest.
But who looks after her when she makes these visits? It has to take a toll on her spirit. Who holds her in the car afterward? Does Greg even know about Shelby’s sister? Does he realize these visits might be painful for Shelby? He must, right?
“I think it’s great that you work with them,” I say carefully. “But who takes care of you?”
She blinks at me. “I’m okay.”
“You’re more than okay, but that’s not what I’m asking.”
“I don’t get asked that often, Rooster. Maybe a handful of times since Redneck Roadhouse ended. There’s no wait list to meet Shelby Morgan or anything. I’m not that—”
“Woman, if you say not that big a deal again—”
“What?” she challenges.
“You’re bigger than you realize, but that’s not the point.” I tap her chest, over her heart. “You need to take care of yourself too.” Or you need me to protect you.
She reaches over and tugs on my beard. “I’m okay, really. Thank you for being here with me today. It really helped.”
I cup her cheek, running my thumb over her bottom lip. “Let me know next time you’re doing a visit. I don’t want you to go alone.”
“Rooster. That’s crazy. Sometimes they’re set up in advance but other times, it’s like this one—I get the message on short notice.”
“You can say no.”
“I can’t.” She drops her gaze and shakes her head. “It’s not an option for me, Logan.”
I wrap my hand around hers, dragging it closer, running my lips over her knuckles. “Then let me know. Please. If I can’t go with you, I’ll at least talk you through it after or something.”
“Okay,” she whispers. A soft laugh passes her lips and she tugs her hand away. “That tickles.”
“I thought you liked my beard?” I pull her close and rub my chin against her inner wrist and up her arm.
“Oh, I do.” She laughs harder. “Still tickles.”
I lean over and rub my face against her cheek until she’s giggling uncontrollably and pushes me away. “Stop! Stop!”
“How do you feel about bonfires?” I pop a kiss on her cheek and move back to my seat.
“Love ’em. Why?”
“That’s what they’re planning at the clubhouse tonight.”
“When do I get to see your clubhouse?” she asks.
“We can go now if you want. I have to warn you—downstate’s place isn’t quite as fancy.”
“But I’d still like to see where you spend most of your time.” She closes her eyes. “So when I’m on the road, I can picture you in your natural habitat.”
