25. Chapter 26
Chapter 26
CHARLOTTE
T he second the heavy glass doors to the emergency room open with a whoosh , I rush to the registration desk, a frog in my throat. “Hi,” I croak. “Someone just called me about my mother, Tiffany Baker? She was admitted a couple of hours ago?”
After checking her computer screen, the attendant nods. “Okay, go ahead and take a seat. I’ll notify the nurses that you’re here, and someone will be out to get you shortly.”
I give her my thanks, then turn, and without waiting for an invitation, I fall into Chris’s arms. Pressing my cheek into the soft material of his shirt, I allow him to soothe me. One hand strokes my hair while the other runs over my lower back, anchoring me in place.
The moment I got the call from the nurse at the hospital, asking me to come, I panicked. My thoughts went into hyperdrive. I imagined the worst-case scenarios, all the things that could’ve possibly gone wrong, including the one thing I fear the most?that my mother finally hit the end of her rope and tried to harm herself. Suicide isn’t something I’ve allowed myself to contemplate often, but I’d be lying if I said it’s never crossed my mind that my mother might one day try it, and no amount of reassurances from the doctors could calm the knot in my chest.
Embarrassed, I pull away from Chris, fighting the flush rising from my neck to my cheeks. My vulnerability in the yoga studio where I admitted my deepest and darkest fears was bad enough. The last thing he needs is me falling apart on him now, especially when things have been going well for us. I’m happy, learning to let go and to trust whatever is growing between us. Most of all, I’ve been living in the moment without the fear of what tomorrow might bring. Without worrying how I’ll handle it if things go south.
But what if this is too much for him? It’s more than he bargained for when all he wanted for so long was the petite brunette with the smart mouth. Right now, at this very moment, we should be back at his place, having fun. Instead, we’re at the hospital waiting to hear about my mother. My hair’s a rat’s nest from running my hands through it on the ride here, my fingernails are bitten to the quick, and my bottom lip is swollen from chewing on it in an effort to quell my nerves. I’m a mess, and not the hot kind. If my stomach wasn’t currently doing jumping jacks, I’d be more than a little embarrassed?I’d be mortified.
“I’m sorry,” I say, dropping my gaze to his chest. “I know this isn’t how you pictured the night ending.”
“Sshhh. Hey,” Chris tips my chin with his fingers, ducking his head to meet my gaze. “This isn’t your fault. Shit happens, so don’t go apologizing for it. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now than here with you.”
I nod, staring up at him and wondering how in the hell I got this lucky. Who would’ve thought Chris, my bestie’s boyfriend’s goofy roommate, would be so fucking amazing?
“Miss Baker?” a voice calls behind me.
Sucking in a breath, I turn around to find a nurse with warm hazel eyes and a soft smile beckoning us to follow her. “Right this way.” She nods toward the hallway, then wastes no time as she turns and waits for us to follow.
My stride eats up the slick linoleum, heart pounding in my chest as I rush behind the nurse down the sterile corridor. By my side, Chris holds my hand, a constant reminder of his presence.
The nurse pauses by a room at the end of the hall, giving the solid oak a small rap with her knuckles before pushing it open.
Inhaling, I square my shoulders, preparing myself for whatever waits inside.
“She’ll be okay,” Chris whispers, his voice steady, an anchor to my drifting thoughts.
I offer him a tight smile as his pale-blue gaze meets mine, searching for reassurance that I’m okay. But all I can do is nod as I step into the room, the door creaking as it swings further on its hinges.
The scent of disinfectant stings my nostrils and the sight of her lying in a hospital bed, her leg propped up in a brace, steals my breath. A vicious bruise runs along her temple, and her eyes are distant, glazed, and unfocused. “Mom?” I step closer, my voice trembling as her hazel gaze slowly lifts.
“Charlotte . . .” She blinks in recognition, her voice a hoarse rasp as she says, “I told them not to bother you, but they said I can’t drive.”
I shake my head, hating she thinks she’s a burden, even though I’ve thought it myself. “I’m here, Mom. I’m here,” I repeat as I sink down into the chair beside her bed.
Reaching out, I take her hand in mine, noting the cool skin beneath my fingers as regret worms its way into my heart. I can’t help but feel like this is my fault. If I had commuted instead of insisting on living on campus, I would’ve been there. I could’ve prevented . . . whatever this is.
Pushing the thoughts aside, I swallow over the lump in my throat. “Mom, what the heck happened? Are you okay?”
Before she can answer, a tall man in a white coat steps into the room, his expression serious save for the small smile he offers. “Charlotte, I’m Dr. Reynolds. You’re her daughter?”
“Yes.” I straighten, preparing myself for the news. “What happened?”
“Apparently, she’d been having problems sleeping?”
I nod, though my gaze darts to my mother, then back. If she’s been having problems sleeping, that’s news to me. Usually when she’s in one of her episodes, all she does is sleep.
“Well, it looks like she took a larger dose of her sleeping medication than recommended, which resulted in some confusion and grogginess. She got out of bed and was headed down the stairs when she lost her balance and fell.” He pauses, and I close my eyes, wondering if this is more than a case of accidental overdose. After a moment, I blink them back open, and listen closely to his next words. “After running some tests, we’ve determined that she tore a ligament in her knee, but fortunately, there’s no need for surgery. It’s a significant strain, though, and she’ll need some time to recover, plus some physical therapy in the coming weeks to ensure she heals up properly.”
A wave of relief washes over me. It could be worse. “So, that’s good, right?”
“It’s definitely the best-case scenario in terms of healing, but she’ll likely need some assistance around the house. Does she live alone?”
I swallow as another wave of guilt washes over me. “She’s not married, and I’m away at college,” I say, feeling defensive.
But you could be home, if you wanted to be . . .
The doctor hums in understanding. “In that case, you might want to set up a bed downstairs for the time being, just so she’s not climbing stairs unassisted with no one home. Also, until she’s healed, there will be no driving since it’s her right leg, and she’ll continue to wear the brace and use crutches for at least a month.”
I nod numbly, trying to process this newfound information while my mind ruminates on everything else that’s been going on since she found out about my father’s engagement. How the hell is she going to see Dr. Sherri if she can’t drive? Once she’s able to start PT, who’s going to take her? Without income, how much will these medical bills set her back?
I swallow, my gaze flickering to Chris and back, wondering how I can subtly voice my concerns without causing more harm than good. “And what about her mental health? My mother . . . she has a history of depression.”
“I told him I’m okay, Charlotte. I just screwed up. Honestly,” my mother chimes in for the first time.
The doctor hesitates for a moment, glancing at my mother before answering. “We asked her some questions and ran an assessment on her, and as of this moment, we have no reason to be alarmed or think she might hurt herself. Are these concerns of yours?” he asks with a frown.
“I don’t know. She’s never . . . I don’t think so,” I say, sounding uncertain, even to my own ears.
“Well, I recommend that she continues seeing her therapist. The medication and the fall may have contributed to her state, but the root cause of her depression and why she’s not sleeping is something she needs to address carefully.”
“Yeah, I understand.” I exhale, breathing through the knot of nerves tightening my chest as Dr. Reynolds checks on my mother one last time, then promises to have a nurse bring the discharge papers by soon.
Once the door clicks shut, my thoughts swirl in a thousand directions. Mom’s already in a spiral, and I have no doubt this will make things worse. Her physical limitations only add another element to an already complicated situation. If I can barely motivate her to take a shower and see her therapist, how am I supposed to convince her to go to physical therapy? And that’s not even taking into account the fact I’m not even around to get her there.
“Charlotte . . .” I lift my head at the sound of Chris’s voice, his touch warm as he presses a hand over my shoulder.
I almost forgot I wasn’t alone, and the reminder I’m not comforts me like a safety net.
“Who’s this?” my mother asks, her gaze darting between us.
“Um, Mom, this is Chris,” I say, avoiding the use of his last name, because I have no doubt my mother would recognize it. “He’s my . . .” I lock eyes with him as he steps forward, a crooked grin on his full lips as he reaches a hand out, taking my mother’s frail one in his, and shaking it.
“I’m her boyfriend. It’s new, so she’s just a little shy about saying so.” He winks at her, and I swear to god, she blushes. “Nice to meet you.”
My entire body swells, warming toward him.
“You look familiar,” she says, frowning.
The warmth vanishes, replaced with the cold hard pit of dread in my stomach that he might mention who his mother is.
“It’s probably just my classic good looks.” Chris angles his face so my mother can take a closer look. “Also, you might’ve seen me on TV.”
At that, Mom’s eyes widen. “TV?”
Chris nods. “I’m a running back at Ann Arbor.”
“A football man,” Mom confirms, glancing back at me, as if gauging my reaction to everything he just said.
“Um, Mom, I need a minute to talk to Chris,” I say, afraid he might spill the beans, “but as soon as they bring your discharge papers, I’ll take you home.”
“Okay, sure.” She offers him a wobbly smile that hurts my heart. “Nice meeting you, Chris.”
“I’m sure it won’t be the last time,” he says before he follows me from the room.
Once we’re out in the hallway, I close the door and turn to him with a look of defeat. “I’m sorry about all of this.”
Chris steps closer and places a finger over my lips. “What did I tell you about apologizing?”
With a sigh, I lean into his hand, a puppy desperate for pets. “I probably need to go home with my mother. I can’t leave her alone tonight. And I guess I need to start thinking about what I’m going to do, maybe set up a place for her to sleep downstairs until I can figure things out.” My gaze shifts, glancing anywhere but at him while my mind races.
“Hey, look at me.” He cups the side of my face, tipping my head toward him. “She’s going to be fine. It’s just a torn ligament.”
I deflate, wanting to believe him, but even if my mother is okay, what about me? How am I ever going to live my life if I’m constantly having to fix her?
I press a hand to my forehead. “How am I going to do this? How will I go to classes and hold down the fort for her here at home? Between grocery shopping, physical therapy, appointments with her shrink, the doctor, and interviews for a new job?if I can even get her interviews?I’ll be running to Lockport every five seconds. I can’t even begin to imagine how I’ll make this work.”
“We’ll figure this out, Lettie. I’ll help you. We can have groceries delivered and hire an Uber driver or get some of my family to pitch in.”
Oh, yeah. I’m sure Mom would love that. The family of her ex-husband’s fiancée taking her to see her shrink so she can unload about said failed relationship and his new marriage.
“The point is, you don’t have to do it all alone,” he adds.
I shake my head, hating this for him. His family is normal and sweet and stable, everything mine is not. “Chris?”
“Look, I’ll stay with you tonight. We’ll make sure she’s okay, and we’ll figure out what comes next. You don’t have to carry all of it.”
I blink back the moisture building in my eyes, refusing to cry because as much as I hate this for myself, this isn’t his burden to carry. He shouldn’t have to deal with any of this. Instead, he should be back on campus partying or drinking a beer or hanging with the guys, not dealing with my shit.
But there’s also another part of me?an irrefutable piece of me?that’s melting inside at the prospect of having someone I can rely on, someone who cares enough to help me figure this out. Because, until this very moment, I don’t think I realized just how much I’d been carrying. Hearing him say those things and knowing he means them is like a balm to my battered soul.
“You’ll stay with me?” I whisper, more than a little afraid this thing I have with Chris will vanish just as quickly as it started.
“Of course.” He gives my hands a squeeze. “I’m here for you, always.”
I sigh and step forward, leaning my head over his shoulder as the weight from mine lifts. “You mean as my boyfriend?” I ask, peering up at him with a small grin. “Since when did we put a label on us?”
Chris chuckles. “I told you from the beginning you were mine. You just didn’t wanna hear it. Stubborn little Lettie,” he says, brushing the hair from my face.
A laugh abruptly sprouts inside my chest. “Thank you, Chris.”
“For what?” His fingers continue to play in my hair.
“For being here.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Lettie girl,” he promises.