Page 102 of Run to Me

The three of us say little during the meeting with Dr. Garcia. Relief flashes in his eyes when Maisy insists on me joining them in his office, claiming it’s good to have an extra set of ears in case she or Vera miss any details. He must have registered the lack of willful communication between mother and daughter right away. The emotional distance between them is prevalent even when they’re standing side by side.

Dr. Garcia confirms what everyone suspects. Vera has multiple sclerosis, or MS. He gives us a list of resources for patient and caregiver education, medical assistance, and support groups. He explains her treatment options and the plan he recommends trying first. Apparently, Vera’s had mild symptoms for years and hid them. Without treatment, the severity of her flare-ups worsened. Maisy and I are both surprised by this revelation. Vera’s not.

She remains stoic during the appointment, resigned to her fate as the doctor explains the lifestyle changes and outcomes she can expect. Maisy, on the other hand, vibrates like she’s fighting the urge to flee the room. She fidgets in her seat, knee bouncing and lips pressed in a thin line as she listens.

Dr. Garcia’s firm tone conveys the seriousness of the situation when he addresses Vera. “Our priority is to get your symptoms under control so you can resume most daily activities. This will take time, and you will have to manage your condition for the rest of your life. There is no cure, so your honesty with me and the nurses will be the difference between failure or success. Do you understand, Vera?”

“Yes,” she rasps. The tremor in her voice is the first sign of fear she’s shown throughout the meeting, but I find it harder and harder to muster sympathy for her these days.

Once the appointment ends, and Vera’s tucked into the passenger seat again, I guide Maisy around to the back of the car and lean on the trunk. “Tell me your thoughts,” I say, resting my hands on her waist.

Her bottom lip trembles, so she bites down on it and shrugs, helpless. “Who will take care of her? I can’t do it, Jensen. I can’t drift around her, feeling like an unwelcome ghost, for the rest of her life. It’s too hard.”

I pull her between my thighs and graze a thumb in circles along her side. “She can find help on her own. After the way she’s treated you, you don’t owe her anything.”

“So I just abandon her?”

Lifting an eyebrow, I ask, “Did she not abandon you in a way? She prioritized everything else above you, even if she didn’t realize it. Any relationship takes effort from both parties, and you’ve given her plenty of chances to be a mother to you. She hasn’t, so it’s okay for you to be done.”

She blows out a long, shaky breath, and a few relieved tears trickle down her cheeks. “Why does the thought of letting go of her make me feel a hundred pounds lighter? Am I a horrible person?”

“If you lose a hundred pounds, nothing will be left of you but a tooth,” I say, teasing to prevent her from drowning in unnecessary guilt.

She drops her forehead against my chest and lets out an agonizing groan. “Do you think I’ll hate myself if I go through with it? If I cut her off, there’s no going back. We’re both too stubborn.”

I’m more than familiar with Maisy’s savage way of severing ties, but someone has to care about being cut off to be affected by the act. From what I can tell, Vera won’t even notice if Maisy never comes around again. It’s a sad truth and a damn shame.

“You know how I am about helping people. But I can say, with absolute certainty, that woman”—I jab a thumb over my shoulder—“has no right to depend on you for help. No one will judge you for cutting ties with her regardless of her medical situation.”

Raising her head to look at me, she heaves a sigh. “I’ll have to think about it.”

I’m not sure what there is to think about, but ending the relationship with Vera is Maisy’s decision alone. All I can do is stand by and support her in whatever way she needs me.

“Let’s get back to Walford and drop her off, then I’ll teach you how to mix a few cocktails.”

I have to relieve Javi, who offered to open the bar today. We should make it back in time for me to open instead.

She bats her thick eyelashes at me. “Are you putting me to work, boss man?”

“Watch it,” I say, giving her ass a hard squeeze. “Or I’ll put that smart mouth to work.”

“You’re such a tease. All promises, but no follow-through.”

I press a kiss to her forehead and open the back door. “You’ll regret those words later.”

35

MAISY

Pam and Tatum discuss baby names as they spoon chili into their bowls. When Jake travels for work, and with Jensen spending his evenings at Bruno’s, the three of us eat dinner together often. I enjoy cooking with Pam and learning her family recipes, and Tatum adds to the fun when she plays her guitar or asks us random trivia questions she finds online. It feels like old times, with us enjoying each other’s company. While some things may never change, others do. For instance…

I stare at my empty bowl and summon the courage to make a rare request. Choosing not to let my discomfort win, I simply spit out the words. “I think I need help.”

In my periphery, Pam leans forward with her forearms on the table. “With what?” She keeps her tone casual and doesn’t make a big deal of my admission, which I appreciate.

“Making Vera’s house more accessible. You know, ramps, grab bars in the shower, that type of thing. I don’t know if it’s best to hire a company or if I could do some of it myself. Honestly, the less time I spend over there the better, so I think having some help would⁠—”

Tatum squeezes my arm to end my rambling. “Maiz, whatever you need.” Her blue eyes convey an unspoken I’m proud of you for asking.