As overtime enters round three, she’s cozied up next to me. Her eyes are dropping, but I can tell she’s determined to see the game through. As the broadcast breaks for commercials, I give in by wrapping my arm around her and planting a kiss on her head. Her hand reaches up and our fingers intertwine. This is where we stay for the rest of the game.
It ends with a Nashville loss, to which Mae sighs and reaches for the remote. “I’m going to try my best to get some sleep.” She starts to roll over but stops abruptly. Turning her face to me, she looks me in the eyes. “I wouldn’t mind if you stayed here beside me.”
Rather than answer, I lean over and give her a kiss. Running a soothing hand through her hair, I respond, “I’ll be here if that’s where you want me.” Her eyes widen in thankfulness.
“Is it where you want to be?” she asks timidly.
“Yes, Mae. I’m right where I want to be.” This causes her to smile. We share another sweet kiss before she hands me the remote and rolls over completely. I stare at the screen for a few moments before turning it off and turning to envelop all of her against me.
She snuggles back up against me and guides my free hand to her hip, where I let it rest. Careful not to lay on her hair, I let my head rest on the pillow. Caressing my thumb gently against the smooth skin of her stomach, I feel her relax against me; her heart rate settles, and soon her breathing evens out as sleep finds her.
Feeling the pull of sleep myself, I lay a reassuring kiss on her shoulder and drape my arm over her. Right now, the outside world can stay away; right now, it’s just her and me.
***
Somewhere out in the world, a phone ringing wakes me in a panic. The same damn sound has pulled Mae from beside me. Groaning, I rub my eyes and reach for my own phone as she leaps from the bed and answers.
My phone reads 4:27 a.m. Clicking it off, I sit up and put all my focus on Mae. Her hand is dug into her hair, a look of alarm is plastered across her face. She nods a few times before thanking the caller and hanging up.
The room is deathly silent until she finally lifts her gaze to me and speaks, “My mom overdosed.” she says it as if she’s in a trance. “They were able to revive her, but she’s in the hospital.”Throwing the blankets back, I go to her and wrap her small frame in my arms. She doesn’t cry, doesn’t shake, or question; she just lays her head against my chest and blinks. “They found the car. It’s totaled.”
“What do you want to do?” I ask her, ready to spring into action if she needs.
The trance wears thin as she answers, “I should go see her.” She starts to slip her feet into her boots, and that’s when I realize she intends on going out dressed in nothing but my t-shirt. Grabbing for my bag, I pull out a sweatshirt and help her slip it over her head.
“Thanks,” she mumbles, clearly still lost in thought.
Worried for her, I reach for her hand. She has to roll up the sleeves, but as soon as she does, I latch onto her and we flee the hotel room. Despite the tiredness I’m feeling, I am so thankful that I can be here for her. With Dalton and Raleigh out of the loop, I don’t even want to think about what she would have done tonight if she were alone.
Chapter 22
Mae
THE FLASHES OF cameras are our greeting to County North Medical Center. It’s a small country hospital, but even so, I thought the early hour would make it possible for me to at least make it inside before the rumors caught up with me.
Pulling up to the main doors, Wyatt parks the car and runs around to get me. With no Dalton, the journalists pounce. I can tell Wyatt’s annoyed because he growls at the crowd before he twists to let me out.
“It’s no use,” I whisper to him. He turns fully toward me, his broad shoulders blocking most of the vultures’ views. Boldened by my discomfort with our guests, he brushes some hair behind my ear and holds his hand just below my ear. Giving me a reassuring look, he coaxes me from the car. Closing the car door and locking it up, he grabs my hand with both hands. In a different situation, I’d joke that he’s holding it like a football.
A few journalists call out questions but, thankfully, they make space for us as we grow nearer to the doors. Inside, hospital security and police officers hold off anyone who might want to follow.
Scanning the line of officers, I search for Bill’s face but don’t find it. Instead, I hear a familiar voice. “He’s not here, honey.”
Turning immediately to find the face to match the voice, I find Gale Clancy standing near the front desk with her arms crossed. I try to move to her but Wyatt’s grip is unrelenting, so I drag him over with me.
Gale begins to pull me into an embrace, but it’s difficult since Wyatt won’t let me go. She scowls at him, which finally gets him to give us the room we need. More of a mother than mine ever was, Gale was a constant in my life when I moved in with my grandmother. A friend for years and grandma’s caregiver in the final months. Gale was a rock.
“How is she?” I ask, wiping away the tears that aren’t for my mother but instead for how long it’s been since I’ve spoken to Gale.
“She’s through the worst of it. I’ll take you back to see her if you’d like.” She starts to tug me toward the hallway, but Wyatt’s anchoring hand returns to mine. Gale’s gaze sharpens. “I’ll take good care of her.” She can be sharp, but she’s only looking out for me. It’s a small town, and Wyatt is still an outsider. I give him a reassuring nod, and he lets go. Allowing me the space I need to get through, I follow Gale down the hallway.
There’s another officer inside my mother’s room. He signs over my belongings and informs me that the car has been removed from the tree it was wrapped around and towed to the nearest impound lot. Checking my wallet, I report the missing cash and the officer leaves me.
Gale checks my mother’s vitals before leaving me alone. My mother is asleep and that gives me the opportunity to reallylook at her. Her color is off, her eyes are closed, and her hair is untamed. As hard as I try, I can’t remember a time when she looked healthy.
My phone buzzes; half expecting it to be Wyatt, I glance at it quickly. Raleigh is calling me. Silencing it out of self-preservation, I flick my screen to text, but she beats me to it.
Raleigh:I know you did not just send me to voicemail.
