“I can.” I cast my gaze downward. The truth in her words needles at my heart, as though it’s digging for a stubborn splinter. “Well, I want to.”
She peers at me through hooded eyes. “So do it.”
“Fine. I will,” I add. “Tonight.”
“Attagirl.” She pushes herself up from her chair, drifting toward the door. “Okay. Well, I’m going to wrap things up out front. Do you need anything?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’m all set.”
She nods once and pivots on her heel, but I call out her name, stopping her midstep.
“Thank you,” I say. “For caring about me. For being such a good friend.”
“Of course.” Her face relaxes into a smile. “Have fun tonight.”
“Good night,” I say, before she pads out of the room.
I finish my paperwork for the day and spend an hour catching up on emails before changing to get ready to pick up Oliver. After what happened the other night, I was too nervous to go home and run the risk of falling asleep. Instead, I opted to bring what I needed to get ready in the office bathroom. Once I’m satisfied with my reflection, I pack up my things and slingmy purse over my shoulder. Just as I’m locking the front door, my phone rings. I fish it out of my bag and smile when I see Oliver’s name on the screen.
“Hey, you,” I answer. “I was about to head your way.”
“Lindsey, it’s Joe. Beckett gave me his phone to call you.” His urgent tone causes my stomach to knot, and my words lodge themselves in my throat.
“There’s been an incident,” he continues. “There was a five-alarm house fire caused by a gas leak. We had to call everyone in. A couple of the guys were injured, and Beckett’s face shield was compromised.”
The blood in my veins slows to an icy trickle, chilling my bones. “Joe, is he okay?”
I brace myself against the brick, painfully aware of the familiar shock seeping into my limbs like bitter-cold sludge. This wasn’t the first time the voice on the other line didn’t belong to the person I thought was calling me.
It had been a little late, but that hadn’t been unusual. Sometimes Dad would think of something he needed to tell me, usually related to a patient, and he’d call me so he wouldn’t forget.
Hi, Dad.I’d said.Are you feeling better?
Lindsey, it’s Mama. Sweetheart, I need you to come to the hospital. Your father…
In a cruel twist of fate, my mother called from my father’s phone because her battery was dead. I’m not certain how I got to the Vanderbilt emergency room that night. I don’t remember some long, agonizing drive. It was as though I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I was somewhere else. Somewhere my father didn’t exist.
“He got a lungful of smoke,” Joe says, keeping his voice steady. “The doctors are with him right now.”
I fire questions at him in rapid succession. “Where are you? Is he at Vanderbilt? Can I see him?”
“Yes, he’s at Vanderbilt,” he answers. “And I’m not sure. They’re still working with him.”
I don’t know if I managed a goodbye or a thank-you as I end the call and run to my car. My body is on autopilot as I peel out of the lot and shout at my Bluetooth to call my mom.
She answers on the third ring. “Hey, sweetheart. I was just?—”
“Mama.” I choke on the word, tears making my vision turn fuzzy. “I need you.”
I spotTessa when I sprint through the entrance of the emergency room, and she rushes toward me. My jaw clenches as the smell of bleach and antiseptic hits my nostrils, transporting me back to the last time I blew through these automatic doors.
My mother had floated toward me like a ghost, her skin pale and her eyes blank.
They did everything they could, sweetheart. It was too late.
“Hey,” Tessa says, pulling me into a tight embrace. “It’s okay. Oliver’s gonna be okay. They have him on oxygen right now. The doctor’s keeping him overnight just to be safe, but they said he’ll be discharged in the morning.”
Relief wooshes out of me in a long exhale. “Thank God.”
