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I didn’t respond. I buried my head in her lap, curling up on the backseat in the fetal position and sobbing like I was a child. English ran her fingers through my brown hair. The muddy natural color I’d changed it to so that I could marry this man. And then we’d just fucked it all up. Royally fucked it up.
English didn’t say anything until we got to the hospital. “We’re here.”
I sniffed and sat up. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, sis.” She ran her thumbs under my eyes to clean up my mascara. “I’ve got your back.”
She didn’t say that I’d made a huge mistake. She didn’t tell me that Gavin and I would work it out. She just smiled her brilliant smile and followed me inside.
In that moment, she was half publicist and half best friend. Maybe I’d hear all of that later, but for now, she wanted to take care of me. I appreciated it more than she’d ever know.
English announced who we were at the front desk, and we were ushered through the ER to a waiting area, where my mom was sitting in tears.
“Oh, Whitley!” she called, rushing to me.
We hugged tightly.
“What’s going on? What did the doctor say?”
“No one has come to talk to me yet. They’re still trying to get him stable.”
“I’m going to go find someone to talk to.”
“Don’t leave me,” she said with a pointed sniffle. “Your brother is on his way too. He feels terrible.”
“Why? It’s not his fault.” The unspokenit’s mineweighed between us.
“No, he’s the one who told your father. I don’t think he had any idea that your dad would confront you about it or … any of this.”
Well, that explained a lot. I’d told my brother about the relationship starting out fake in confidence. Or at least, I’d thought it was in confidence. He’d insisted even then that he didn’t think it was a fake relationship. I hadn’t asked him not to tell anyone. What had he been thinking?
“We all need some coffee,” English said. “I’m going to see what I can do. Text me if you get an update.”
“Thanks, English.”
My mom reached out and touched English’s hand. My mom, who had never liked English. She smiled wanly. “Thank you, sweetie.”
English beamed. “Anything for Whit.”
“She’s lucky to have you.”
“I’m lucky to have her.” English hugged me again and then left for coffee.
“I was wrong about her. She cares about you.”
“You were,” I agreed easily. “She’s the best.”
“And that young man …”
I sighed and looked to the ceiling. “Please, let’s not do this right now. I know you’re mad about Gavin. The wedding is off. Let’s deal with Dad, okay?”
Mom bit her lip like she had so much she wanted to say. But what could she say that Dad hadn’t already thrown in our faces? There were more important things to deal with right now than her anger.
So, we sat in the cold plastic hospital chairs for word about Dad. English returned with coffee and my brother.
Mom jumped up and threw her arms around him. “Where’s Carrie?”
“She’s with the kids. I came as soon as I could get them settled. How’s he doing?” Wyatt asked.
