Liv puts the Tahoe in Drive and rolls away from the curb. I sit in silence and wait for her questions. I didn’t want to talk about this until the case was closed, but I’m confident there will be no escaping the coming interrogation.
“You want to talk about it now?” she asks.
“Nope.”
“Okay.”
She drives. I slump in the seat, waiting for the painkiller to kick in fully.
The car stops and I open my eyes to mere slits. They feel too heavy to open wider, and besides, pushing the issue might banish the fog I’ve drifted into.
“I’ll be right back,” she says.
Through the narrow slits, I watch Liv go to the front door, unlock it, and push it open. Sandy rushes out to greet her, then follows her backto my side of the Tahoe. I try to unfasten my seat belt, but my hands aren’t working so well. Liv opens the door, steps up on the running board, and reaches across me to unfasten the damn thing.
“Take it slow,” she says as she steps away.
Sandy dances from side to side. Even she looks worried about me. Probably remembering me bringing Stella home looking like this.
I practically fall out again, but this time Liv keeps me from hitting the ground. She leads me away from the door, shoves it closed with her hip, and then guides me to the house. Sandy sniffs at my right hand, where it dangles at my side. I scrub at her head and make soothing sounds.
Liv doesn’t stop in the living room, she takes me straight through to my bedroom. She visited Stella there plenty of times.
I sit on the side of the bed, shoulders slumped forward, as she kneels before me and tugs off my boots.
“I can do that,” I say, my tongue thick. Oh hell. I sound like a drunk.
“You just take it easy,” she says as one boot pulls free. “I got this.”
Once my boots are off, she peels away my jacket next. I hear the rattle of pills as she places the small vial on the table next to the bed. She removes my side arm and clip as well as my badge, places both next to the pain meds.
She urges me to lie back, then lifts my legs onto the bed. She covers me with the big old afghan at the foot of the bed. Stella made that afghan a million years ago. It has lain draped across the foot of our bed for as long as I can remember.
Stella. I wish she were here. I blink back the damn emotion. As long as she was well, of course. I wouldn’t wish the other on her for anything.
I hear the water running in the bathroom that connects to our bedroom. Liv brings a glass of water and places it on the bedside table, then perches on the edge of the bed next to me. For a long time she just sits there, holding my hand. I close my eyes. Can’t ignore the pull of the drugs.
“Tell me what’s going on, Walt.”
Her words nudge my eyes open a crack. I lick my lips.
“You want a drink of water?”
“Nah.” I drag in a big breath, thankful my lungs and heart are working properly again. “At first we thought it was cancer. Like Stella.”
Fear flashes in Liv’s eyes. “But?”
“The thing in my lung turned out to be nothing. But the chest scan and the symptoms couldn’t be dismissed. There’s a good bit of blockage in the arteries.” I tap my chest. “And the oncologist, after speaking with the cardiologist, thinks it’s a heart issue.”
“How bad?” Her face is lined with worry.
“Don’t know for sure. I see the cardiologist next week. The oncologist says, based on what he sees, there’s reason to believe medicine and lifestyle changes will make all the difference. I should live long and well.” That might be a slight exaggeration.
Her soft fingers tighten on my hand. “Okay. I’m going with you to that cardiology appointment, and we’re going to get whatever changes he recommends going.”
I knew this was what she would say.
“If you insist.”
