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“What would you do without me? All of you are stupid as can be,” she says, and I’m pretty sure she’s talking about me and my brothers. Or maybe all men? “Call her.”
She moves to grab my phone, and I snatch it out of her reach. “She needs time. I’m giving her time.” It’s basically my mantra at this point. I’ve said it to myself so many times this week.
Kayla pins me with a pretty decent version of my own fuck-you look, all humor gone now, and I get a glimpse of why she’s a scary force to be reckoned with at work. Carter told me that once, and I’d thought it was amusing, but I see it now. “Never thought I’d say this to you of all people, Cole, but . . .” She lets it drag out for maximum impact. “You are a coward.” She says it matter-of-factly, which makes it cut that much deeper. “You run away from the family, and now you’re running away from this woman. Janey, you said her name is? You’re right. Don’t call her. If she’s as great as you say she is, she deserves a man who will be there for her, not cut and run when she needs you most.”
Fuck. That hurts.
“That’s not what I’m doing,” I declare. But it sounds a little lame in my ears even as I say it. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, for Janey’s sake.”
“No, you’re keeping her at arm’s length like you do everyone because she’s in a messy situation and she makes you feel something, which you don’t like. And no one calls you on it because what would be the use? You’d grouse at them and ignore it, probably disappear for a while. But this one conversation with you has been more real than we’ve had in years. And I liked it.”
She doesn’t sound like she’s liked it or likes me very much at this moment.
“And now I have to go be happy-happy-joy-joy and sell Unicorn Universe to some asshat who’ll probably look at my boobs the whole time,” she finishes, standing up to leave.
“Wait. What?” She said a lot and I’m mad as fuck, but she’s still my sister and I’ll destroy anyone who disrespects her that way.
Kayla waves her hand dismissively. “Not. The. Important. Part. Cole.” She bends down, getting in my face. “Call her.”
And with that order, she takes her coffee, purse, and my certainty that I’m doing the right thing by staying away from Janey with her out the door.
CHAPTER 14
JANEY
“Good morning, Mrs. Michaelson!” I sing as I enter her room. “How‘re you today?”
Of course, she doesn’t say anything, but that’s expected. I open the blinds to let some sunshine in, check the machines at her bedside, and then focus on the woman herself. “You look good. Like you slept well.” I pause as though she responds. “Me? Pretty well too. I was up reading—I got the new Vampire King book I’ve been waiting on—but I forced myself to stop at chapter five. Dragul had just spotted his latest victim-slash-soulmate, so it was nearly impossible, but I made myself promise when I started it that I would only read for a bit, not all night.”
Truthfully, I’d been distracted while I was reading, which is not a problem I usually have. I fall into books and imaginary worlds like they’re building around me, brick by brick and word by word. But since I got back from the cabin, my thoughts have been preoccupied with one thing . . .
Cole.
I’ve wondered what he’s doing. If he’s on a case or even in town. Shoot, I’ve wondered if he’s dead in a ditch along the winding road home because no one would know to look for him.
But I’ve also remembered . . . his touch, his array of smiles, his kindness, and his grumpy charm.
I miss him. Despite the painfully weird goodbye, I miss him.
I’ve done a good job of staying busy, though. I’ve worked, catching up with my patients and the other staff because life went on without me here. Ariella, one of the aides, is pregnant with her third, and we’re excitedly planning a baby shower, even though she’s barely twelve weeks. Dr. Vincetti announced his upcoming retirement and subsequent plans to travel with his husband. Mr. Culderon’s son, who we don’t like, came in flashing a ten-dollar fake Rolex, thinking it would impress the staff and we’d treat his father differently, which of course, we don’t. We continue our top-notch care, regardless. Mrs. Michaelson has a sore on her hip, a common concern for bedbound patients, and I’ve made it my personal mission to heal it with love, positivity, and a healthy dose of prescription ointment. And best of all . . .
“I did it,” Mason says from the doorway. “You were right, and I finally listened. I did it.”
