Chapter 39
CHAPTER 39
WYATT
A nurse gets us settled into a room, wheeling a sleeping Eden in her grim little bed. As horrifying as it is to see her there, her chubby limbs connected to tubes and wires, a tiny, faded hospital gown pooling around her, I have to admit that her color has improved just in the short time we’ve been here.
“This room is nice,” Libby says, sitting down on one of two chairs. Hazel takes the recliner beside Eden, her worried eyes never leaving her daughter.
“It’s a hospital room. What could possibly be nice about it?” I snap, the exhaustion finally hitting me. I got just a couple of hours of sleep, the drive to the hospital was incredibly tense, and now that the adrenaline is bleeding out of me, I’m starting to unravel. I wrap my arms around myself, missing Owen, who hasn’t come back yet.
“I’m just trying to look on the bright side,” Libby says. “We could be stuck down in the ER all night like that time you fell down the stairs when you were five and broke your ankle. That was awful . There was a drunk in the next bed who moaned for hours and hours and scared the dickens out of you. Neither of us got any sleep.”
“You mean the time we were staying at that cheap motel because we got evicted and I slipped on a beer someone spilled in the stairwell and broke my arm ? That time?”
“Oh, right, it was your arm,” she says, like that’s the most important part of the memory.
When Fatima walks into Eden’s room, I look over her shoulder for Owen.
But he’s not there.
“Okay, looks like everyone is settled,” Fatima says, reaching for Eden’s chart. She peruses the notes and nods. “Her pulse ox is improving, just like we want to see. If everything keeps heading in this direction, I think she’ll be discharged by tomorrow night. In the meantime, I think we should give Hazel and Eden some room. It’s a tight space. Hazel, that recliner lies flat. I know it’s hard, but please try to get some sleep. Eden’s not going to get better faster if you stare at her. She’s in good hands, and so are you.”
“Yeah, you two should go home and sleep,” Hazel says to Libby and me. “Wyatt, you can drive Mom.”
She sounds authoritative. Like a mother. It takes my breath away.
“I came here with Owen. There’s no more room in my truck,” I say. I sound like a stubborn teen, and I hate it.
“Where is Owen, anyway?” Libby asks.
“Oh, he went home,” Fatima says.
“He what?” The words are out of my mouth—part panicked, part aghast—before I can control my tone. I feel Libby’s eyes on me, studying my reaction. “How? I mean, I’m his ride.”
I pat my purse, hearing the rattle of my keychain.
“He called an Uber,” Fatima says. “There was nothing for him to do here, and he needed sleep. I suggest the two of you get some rest too.”
He called an Uber.
The words hit me like a slap.
Not six hours ago, he was telling me he loved me over and over again. And now he’s walked away when my niece is in the hospital? He just…left?
I pull out my phone and check our text thread, but there’s nothing from him. No apology, no explanation.
Something isn’t right.
“Okay, we’ll head out, then,” Libby says. She gathers her purse and gives Eden a soft kiss on the cheek, then wraps Hazel in a hug. “Get some sleep, honey, okay? Call us if you need anything. We can bring breakfast in the morning.”
“Yeah,” I say, giving Hazel a hug, but I’m only halfway present. My brain is grasping for explanations. Anything that will make me stop worrying about Owen’s sudden disappearance.
“Thanks for coming,” Hazel says, her voice watery.
“I’ll always be here for you, Haze.”
“I know. I know that with every part of me. But make sure you show up for yourself too, okay?” She squeezes my arms. “Maybe drop Mom off and go to Owen’s?”
Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do. Owen’s just tired and stressed, rattled from our dark-of-night rush to the hospital. I’ll go find him, reassure him that Eden is okay, and maybe we can finally talk about what’s been going on with him.
I think back to my conversation with Francie, and I wonder if he even knows.
The truck is still in the reserved spot by the door, the tires between the lines but slightly askew. I think back to our arrival, to the way Owen swung the wheel into the parking lot, the way the truck lurched to a halt. I wasn’t paying close attention because my thoughts were consumed with worry about Eden and Hazel. But now that Eden is safe and Hazel is resting, I can’t escape the memory of how Owen looked: his clenched jaw, his knotted shoulders, the tension that absolutely radiated off him.
“So, you heading over to the good doctor’s house?” Libby asks as I pull out of the parking lot.
“What?” I nearly forgot she was beside me, and my hands are clenched around the wheel, my knuckles white. Something isn’t right. I keep repeating it like a mantra.
Libby tsk s. “That boy seems like he’s got his feelings all in a knot. It’s not good, honey bun.”
I clench my teeth so tightly my molars ache. “Would you cut it out with the honey bun shit?”
Libby turns to face me. “Wyatt Jean, what is your problem with me?”
Now my hands unclench from the wheel, flying up and smacking the aging fabric on the ceiling of the car. “Are you kidding me right now?”
“I’m not. You’re treating me like some evil stepmonster, and I don’t like it.” She turns back to stare out the windshield, her arms crossed over her chest. “I know I wasn’t a great mother?—”
I snort. “Understatement.”
“But I’ve always loved you. I took care of you as best I could. I tried to shield you from the worst of things.”
“Did you? Really? Did you shield me from Brandon, who would show up at our apartment drunk and backhand you while wearing his fucking class ring?”
“Yes, Wyatt. He slapped me, and then he left. And the next day we left.”
“Why didn’t you call the cops?”
She scoffs. “The cops? Are you kidding? The cops wouldn’t have done shit, and if they’d tried, it just would’ve made things worse. I took us out of that situation, which was the best thing I could do.”
“And into what? A string of cheap motels in Alabama? That trailer in Apalachicola that was full of mold?”
“You always had a bed to sleep in and food to eat, and you always had me,” she says.
“Until I didn’t! Until you left with that guy Jayden or Cayden or Braxton or whatever the fuck and decided taking me with you was too inconvenient. Then you told me to hit the bricks.”
“I—” she starts like she’s got an argument, but the word dies in her mouth. She sighs. “I’m sorry. All I can say is that at the time, I thought I was doing the right thing. You were old enough to take care of yourself, and I think part of me knew you could do it better than I could. You said it yourself—I could hardly give you consistency. The sooner you got out on your own, the sooner you could start living a better life. And you were so angry with me by that point, it felt like independence was the best gift I could give you.”
There’s a long stretch of silence between us, the only sound the rush of the warm summer air through the open windows as we drive toward town.
Libby sighs. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. For everything. For not doing better by you, for leaving you behind, for taking Hazel. And then for dumping everything on you when I made yet another stupid decision. You picked up the pieces, and Hazel is who she is because of you. She is smart and brave and strong and an incredible mother to that baby, and none of that is because of me. You did that, Wyatt. And you should be proud.”
It’s not until I pull up to the house and turn off the truck that I realize there are tears pouring down my cheeks. I think about what Carson said about Libby being a victim too. About how I’ve been blaming her for the actions of the men she chose. Could she have done better? Absolutely. But could she have done worse?
Jut the thought makes me shudder.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me. And hell, I definitely don’t deserve another chance. But I want you to know that I’m trying. For Hazel and for Eden, but also for you. You deserve that, Wyatt,” Libby says. “You’ve worked so hard, and you deserve at least that.”
She gives me a long, sad look, then gathers her purse into her lap.
“Now, you go on after your doctor,” Libby says, reaching up and tucking a curl behind my ear. “But please remember that even though you are the strongest woman I know, that doesn’t mean you need to hold up a man, okay? If I’ve learned anything in this life, it’s that a man’s gotta hold himself up first.”