Page 82 of Meant for Mayhem

“Leena’s great,” I said without having to think through it.

“How’s work?”

“Okay, I guess. Not what I was expecting, but I had a Parkinson’s patient today that kind of reminded me of you.”

“Parkinson’s?” she asked, sounding confused. “I thought you were working with kids.”

“Not right now, no. Turns out I made such a good impression when I told them about you in my interview, they decided I was a better fit for adult patients.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

I took a deep breath, thinking through her question. “I don’t know. At first, I was disappointed. This isn’t what I was picturing, but it’s not all bad.”

“Good. I bet you’re good at it.”

“Based on what?” The question sounded snarkier than I meant it.

“Well, you always made me feel good about where I was at. When I was frustrated with myself, feeling like I’m trapped in this body that won’t cooperate anymore, you never batted an eye. Just kept going like it wasn’t worth paying attention to, and the disease didn’t change your view of me.”

“It didn’t.”

“See?” Lori said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “Don’t give up yet. You’ve wanted this forever.”

“I wanted pediatrics forever,” I admitted. “I wanted to help kids who...” The memories my brothers’ texts had brought back to the surface. “Kids who needed someone in their corner.”

“Like you did.”

I closed my eyes. “Yeah.”

She let the silence linger for a moment before speaking again. “You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“I think you’ve spent so much time focusing on who you wanted to help that you forgot why you wanted to help them.”

I frowned.

“I bet you these patients need you in their corner as much as kids do. Maybe even more so if they’re alone. It’s not like we have our parents advocating for us anymore.”

My throat tightened, remembering how lonely Walt seemed. I looked back toward the assisted living building through my windshield.

“Age doesn’t matter, sweetheart.” Her voice softened. “We need you for the same reason those kids do. We’re trying to hold on to something we don’t want to lose.”

I swallowed hard, hating that she included herself in those statements. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

“Now,” Lori said. “Tell me about Mikko. I want the good stuff.”

“I don’t even know what to tell you.”

“That good, huh?”

“More like complicated.”

“Complicated, in a, ‘oh no, my husband is attractive and I want to jump his bones’ way?”

She couldn’t see me, but my cheeks flamed at the memory of last night. “Ew. I’m not answering that.”

“Oh, come on,” Lori whined. “Make my romance novel dreams come to life. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other.”