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But eventually they would need to come up with a plan so they weren’t spending all their time together in just Bourbon Falls. There were places he’d like to show her in Indianapolis as well, people he’d love for her to meet. And his parents would adore her and Brooklyn, once they had a chance to meet.
When he heard the plow come down her street at six the next morning, Alex rose, showered, and kissed a sleepy Mia good-bye. He hated leaving her soft, warm bed, but knew it was the right thing to do. She, of course, completely understood.
“Be careful, and text to let me know you made it okay,” she said, propped on one elbow as he gathered his duffel bag.
“Will do. Thanks again for a perfect weekend.”
One kiss more, and he headed out.
The drive home was much slower going than usual, which he’d fully expected. The major roads had been cleared, but blowing snow had drifted across the once-clean highway he relied on, melting and then freezing again as temperatures dipped after sunset. Between the black ice and his sports car’s rear-wheel drive, a trip that usually took him no more than an hour and a half this morning took him over two. More than once, he wished he’d stayed snuggled up with Mia rather than venturing out.
By the time he eased into his parents’ place, it was going on eight-thirty, the sky just beginning to turn from deep violet to a dusty pink. He sent Mia a quick text letting her know he made it okay, then headed inside. His father was crashed on the couch, his mother asleep in the recliner beside him. A cast peeked out the top of a navy-blue sling.
Fatigued from the slippery drive, he dropped into a seat beside his mother’s chair. Should he wake her? Let her sleep?
Alex’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. It was a text from Mia, thanking him for letting her know he’d made it and to keep her posted on his mom. He wished she were here; she always seemed to know what to do.
His gaze shifted back to the sling. Too bad there wasn’t some magical way to speed up the healing process. Evelyn Wellington had never been one to slow down, and this cast was sure to irritate her.
“Let her sleep.”
He turned to find his father shifting to a seated position, stubble on his jawline and hair ruffled. Alex rose and came to sit beside his father on the couch.
“Broken?”
His father nodded. “Thankfully, they were able to set everything without surgery. Doctor said this is a fairly common break. She goes back in two weeks to make sure it’s all healing well and get a waterproof cast.”
“How’s she holding up?”
“Pretty well, all things considered. The Percocet was her best friend once they finally gave it to her. Still lots of questions about why we had to stay at the ER. I had to bribe her with a trip to DQ on the way home.”
Alex grinned. His mom had always had quite the sweet tooth. “I’m guessing they were all closed by then, huh?”
“Yes. Not that she’ll remember the conversation.”
“Forget ice cream? They must have her on some pretty good pain pills.”
His father was quiet for a moment, then dropped a hand to Alex’s knee. “Son, I’d planned to tell you this after dinner tonight. Your mother, she’s been acting…off lately. Mixing up dates for her events, forgetting to relay messages, misjudging distances. At first, I thought maybe it was her allergies acting up, but after she took a tumble in the living room a few months back, I made an appointment with our family doctor.”
Fear sent ice through his veins. “You didn’t mention her falling before.”
“The couch caught her fall, and she was more embarrassed than anything. She asked me not to mention it to anyone. But I went ahead and made an appointment with our GP. After a physical and long list of questions, he recommended we see a specialist.”
“A specialist? For what, physical therapy?”
His father’s hand tightened on his knee. “Son, your mother’s been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease.”
Time ground to a halt. His mother, keeper of the family calendar, organizer of community activities, was losing her memory?
“No way,” he said. “Not Mom. Maybe…maybe she was dehydrated yesterday. Or had a UTI—I’ve heard those can be really dangerous if left undiagnosed in women her age.”
“Alex.”
“No.” He rose from his seat, needing to put space between him and his father. His mother stirred in her sleep; Alex lowered his voice. “Find another doctor. Get a second opinion. Or a third. Mom doesn’t have Alzheimer’s. No one in our family ever has.”
“We did get a second opinion. And when I didn’t like what that doctor had to say, I got two more. They ran more tests, different tests, but the answer always came back the same.”
It was all Alex could do not to scream. This couldn’t be happening to his sweet and determined mother. It just couldn’t.
