He smiles at me as he strokes my hair again. “And Nora has Moira with her.” His features seem to scrunch into the middle of his face, and he shrugs. “This is going to take some getting used to.”
“That’s understandable.”
There’s a light knock on the door, and then it opens to reveal Nurse Bianca with her dark hair and scrubs. “Your helicopter awaits.”
“Here, son, I’ll help you up,” my dad says.
“Oh, no.” Nurse Bianca places a hand on his arm. “He needs a wheelchair.”
“Isn’t this all a little much for some scratches?” I ask.
“Facial lacerations can cause scars. And your eye needs treatment too.”
“She means no,” my dad says as she leaves the room. Moments later, she reenters with a wheelchair.
“Do you always send your patients away in helicopters?” I ask.
“No,” she says with a smile. “We’ve only used the landing pad on the roof to bring in lost hikers. I’m probably going to get fired. But it’s better than another malpractice suit.”
It’s embarrassing to think about being wheeled out to a helicopter. I don’t need any of this fuss. At the same time, Nora seemed to think it was important. She made all these arrangements, and if I said no, I’d be dishonoring her wishes.
I’ll do it for her, and for my dad, who looks more worried than I’ve ever seen him.
But I’m not going to wait another twelve years for fate to throw me another chance with Nora.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
NORA
“You don’t have to worry,” I tell my mother, nearly hysterical. “I know I’m not good enough for him. I couldn’t be. I’m going to let him go. Heshouldgo.”
I’ve been talking to—no, at—my mom for the past thirty minutes on the way back to Asheville, telling her everything.
Okay, obviously I didn’t tell her about our seven minutes in heaven or anything else sexual, but the rest of the story came pouring out, as if she were my confessor.
Because maybe she needed to be.
My mother is the one my father lied to, the one he used.
She’ll know whether I’m like him.
My mom, who is the safest driver I know, other than Cormac, comes to an abrupt stop at a red light, and my body slams against the seat belt.
I stare at her in surprise and find her teacher face on full display. This isn’t my mother anymore—this is Mrs. Applebaum-Peebles, second-grade teacher. Winner of multiple Teacher of the Year awards.
“Why on earth would you say you’re not good enough for him?”
“I’m not. He’s been so good to me, and what did I do? I got him punched in the face.”
“And I’ll tell you what I tell all of my students at school. The person who throws the punch is the one who’s responsible for it.” She gives me a harsh look. “Youdidn’t punch him in the face. José did, and he’ll be getting an earful from me about it the next time I see him.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I stare into my lap, wondering where Cormac is now. Is he on the helicopter? Is he worried about me?
I couldn’t face him again after that conversation with Kenji, not yet.
“I rather think it does,” my mom says in a blustery voice as she starts driving again. “You’re not responsible for that punch, and my daughter is good enough foranyman.”
“I’m a liar. I’m more like Dad than like you. He always said so. So did you.”
