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“Why are you going home, Leigh? Did something happen today?”
I lick my lips and the taste of Jaxson still lingers.
“My mom had an accident. She died.” I don’t sound like Leigh Baxter, the woman who just lost her mother.
I sound like Dr. Baxter, advising someone of their loved one's death.
Willow throws her arms around me and holds me tightly. Her sobs are erratic as she cries for not only my loss but her own as well.
When Willow pulls back, Evie leans in to hug me.
“I’m sorry, Leigh. I didn’t know your mom, but I’m sure she was amazing. You’re living proof of it.”
My eyes tear up at her kind words.
Willow and Evie pack my belongings while I sit and watch them. My eyes follow their movements, but my mind alternates between grieving the loss of my mother and trying to reject what I
feel for Jaxson.
I watch the hand on the clock as it ticks the seconds away. Time has a weird way of warping when you’re in shock. In this moment, it feels like it’s dragging by, prolonging the sorrow for as long as possible. But when I think back on the night, I have no idea where all the time went.
The last twelve hours of my life can be split into five segments.
Mom’s alive.
Mom’s dead.
I hate Jaxson.
I love Jaxson.
I hate Jaxson.
When there’s a knock on the door, Evie goes to see who it is.
She comes back with Carter following behind her.
“I’m sorry for the early visit. Jax told us what happened. I wanted to catch Leigh before she leaves.”
Evie smiles sadly at him then goes to her room so we can have privacy.
Carter sits down next to me and takes my hand in his.
“Do you know what time your father will be here?” he asks. It doesn’t escape me that he doesn’t offer empty condolences.
“No.”
“When I got home last night, Jaxson told me what happened. I hope you don’t mind, but I arranged with my father to send our private jet so you don’t have to fly commercial back home.”
I squeeze his hand because I can’t summon enough strength to smile.
“Can I wait with you?”
I nod as my bottom lip starts to quiver.
Carter pulls me into his chest, and he lets me cry. I bury my face in his chest while he makes a call to find out what flight Dad is on. He arranges a driver to collect Dad and to bring him here.
“Thank you,” I whisper when he’s done with the calls.
