Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Love her.
My heart can’t make sense of its feelings for Jamie. Something was severed that day. And maybe I don’t know how I feel about Jamie because I can’t feel. Or maybe there’s nothing left to feel.
Maren starts to pull my door shut behind her but stops. “I’m here for you the way you were there for me when Brandon died. Okay?”
I nod slowly. After she shuts the door, I finish unpacking my bag and slide it under my bed. I pick up my mom’s diamond ring from the top of the dresser and stare at it. I was ready to stop looking back at my tragic past because Jamie was worth taking a risk, for a life I never dared to imagine. And when I was with her, I didn’t think about my parents and sister. She was the ultimate distraction.
Now she’s the ultimate reminder.
My light became my darkness.
“How the fuck did this happen?” I mumble, opening the top drawer and depositing the ring next to a few watchbands and spare buttons.
Chapter Forty-Four
JAYMES
I always try to advocate for my patients, but I have a vested interest in Dwight Keane that I won’t share with his doctors or other nurses. And I’m advocating for fewer meds, more lucid days, fresh air, healthier food, and sunshine.
I’m desperate to fix things in my life, even if I know in my gut they are beyond repair.
Dwight is beyond repair.
My relationship with Fitz is beyond repair.
My shattered dreams . . . beyond repair.
“Did you have a good session with Dr. Lin?” I ask Dwight while he eats his dinner.
“I did. I told her about you.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Oh yeah? What did you say?”
“I said I’m the luckiest one here because my daughter is my nurse.”
I chuckle, knowing Dr. Lin doesn’t know or believe I’m Dwight’s daughter. If I thought telling her the truth would help resolve his issues and get him out of this facility, I’d do it. Instead, I think it would lead to me leaving my position earlier than planned. Then who would look out for his best interests?
“Well, I’m a travel nurse. I won’t be here forever. In fact, I might be done after Christmas, unless I get my contract extended, which I’m hoping will happen.”
“How’s your family?” It’s the first time he’s asked me about my family.
“I’m not married. No kids.” I barely get the words out of my mouth with my composure intact. And my hand instinctively goes to the tattoo on my neck every time I think of Fitz, which is often. Clearing my throat, I smile. “However, I have three days off starting tomorrow, and I’m taking a flight to go visit your parents.”
He stops midchew, brow tense. “Their graves?”
“They’re alive.”
Dwight shakes his head, brushing off my reply. “If they were alive, they would have visited me.”
My chest constricts. “Yeah,” I mumble. “You’re probably right.”
Nathan gave me an address for my grandparents, but there’s no guarantee they’ll be here because the landline is disconnected. The cell phone number is questionable because I can’t get an answer, and there is no voicemail set up. However, since I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon, it won’t be a wasted trip, even if they’re not here.
I park the rental car on the tree-lined street and inspect the gray ranch house.
“This is a bad idea,” I mumble, combing my fingers through my hair while checking my teeth in the rearview mirror. They abandoned Dwight. They abandoned me and their daughter. Why do I feel this aching need to meet them?
I check my phone. I’ve checked it every five minutes since the day I walked out of Fitz’s house on Thanksgiving.
Nothing.
I know we’re done, but my heart loves living in denial, so I let it cling to irrational hope just to keep from crying twenty-four seven.
With a brave inhale, I step out of the car and trek up their driveway. After three quick knocks on their door, there’s a long pause—so long that I turn around to leave. And part of me is relieved they’re not home. My nerves are knotted in my stomach.
“Hello?” a stout, gray-haired man says upon opening the door.
I turn. “Hi. Are you Waylon? I’m, uh—”
“Barbara,” he whispers, sliding his thick round glasses up his nose and closer to his brown eyes.
It takes a moment for the sound of my untold name from his lips to sink in. It’s not a guess. He knows it’s my name with certainty. “H-how did you know?”
He opens the creaky door a few more feet. “You look just like your mom.”
My smile falters, tripping over unexpected emotion, but I nod and take a deep breath. “So I’ve been told.” I step inside.
We stare at each other for a few awkward seconds. What do I say now? Everything I sorted out on the way here is nothing but a jumbled mess, like the inside of a suitcase that’s been handled roughly.