Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Madison
The appendectomy was straightforward. In and out in forty minutes, no complications, the kind of case that ran itself. I scrubbed out on autopilot and stood at the sink longer than I needed to with the water running cold over my wrists.
I'd been doing that a lot today.
The Phelps meeting had taken half an hour.
I'd gone straight from her office to the stairwell and stood there with my back against the wall until my breathing evened out, and then I'd gone to the OR and done my job because that was what you did.
The work didn't care what was happening in the rest of your life and I'd always been grateful for that.
With the case finished and two hours until the next, the empty break room offered nothing left to hide behind. I poured coffee I didn't want and stood at the counter.
Phelps had said forty-eight hours. It was just past three in the afternoon, which meant technically Jack had until tomorrow morning.
I’d answered every question she’d asked and I’d meant every word.
Now there was nothing left to do but wait, which I’d never been good at.
I was good at moving. I was good at the next thing.
Waiting was just thinking with nowhere to go.
I picked up the phone on the wall before I'd finished deciding to.
Deb picked up on the second ring.
"It's Dr. Clarke," I said. "The Henley placement. Has there been any word from Phelps?"
"Provisional approval came through about an hour ago," Deb said. "He's here now, actually. With Lily."
"Good," I said. "That's—good. Thank you, Deb."
I hung up and stood there with my hand still on the receiver.
Provisional approval. He was there. Lily was going home. Not to a foster placement, not to strangers, but to her mother's house with the man who'd flown in from halfway across the country because that was how Jack Henley did things. Quietly, without anyone having to tell him.
I should have felt clean about it. I'd done a thing, the thing had worked, and now it was finished and I could go back to my day.
I poured the coffee down the sink and rinsed the mug.
The thing was, I hadn't thought about Jack Henley in years.
Not really. Not in the way that counted.
I'd gotten good at not-thinking, the way you got good at anything you practiced long enough.
What had happened twelve years ago… I'd folded it all up and put it somewhere it didn't have to be looked at, and mostly that had worked.
Years of mostly. Long enough that I'd stopped checking whether it was still holding.
Two days and the fold had come undone.
I rinsed the mug and set it on the rack.
I thought about what I'd said to Phelps. She needs someone who knew her mom. Who'll tell her about her when she's older. Both of those things were true. Completely, straightforwardly true. There was nothing in them that was about me.
But then I thought about the lobby. The way he'd been sitting, with his elbows on his knees, shoulders carrying something invisible, the stillness of a man who'd spent so long braced for the worst that the bracing had become the posture.
I'd known it was him before I'd seen his face.
Twelve years and my body had recognised him anyway, some traitor reflex that hadn't gotten the memo.
Like some part of me had never stopped looking.
Tom knocked on the door. "You eaten?"
"No."
"Come on then." He held it open. Easy and uncomplicated. Just Tom being Tom.
I picked up my bag and followed him out into the corridor, I said the right things over whatever we ate and listened when he talked and was, by any reasonable measure, present and fine.
I didn't think about Jack and Lily again until much later.
I was in bed, lights off, the apartment doing its quiet nighttime thing around me, and the thought came the way thoughts do when there is nothing left to keep them out.
Jack was back.
I didn't sleep for a long time.