Chapter 25
Good Intentions Paved With Secrets
By the time we pull up to Big Sky Medical Center, my stomach is in knots. Walker finds a spot near the entrance, and we rush inside, nodding at the security guard manning the front desk. Walker keeps his fingers laced through mine as we walk down the hall, his steady presence grounding me.
As we turn the corner leading to the medical wing, I spot my dad standing outside what must be Mama’s room. He’s holding a cup of coffee, finishing a conversation with a nurse who hands him a blanket before walking away.
“Dad,” I call out, waving when he turns.
He gives me a feeble smile, and I take in his wrinkled shirt and the dark circles under his eyes.
“Hi, kiddo. I’m so glad you’re here.” He tucks the blanket under his arm, freeing a hand to pull me in for a hug.
“Are there any updates on Mama?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. The attending physician will check on her during his rounds this afternoon. Otherwise, they’re just monitoring her oxygen levels and vital signs.
She’ll be so glad to see you. Tess got her set up with a show before I sent her home to get some rest. I figured the two of us could manage on our own while we’re here.
” He glances at Walker standing beside me. “I’m assuming you’re staying too?”
“Yes, sir. I’m not going anywhere as long as Birdie needs me,” Walker replies, and my heart swells with gratitude.
“Birdie, can you take this blanket to your mother?” Dad asks, handing it to me. “I need to speak with Walker alone.”
I assume he wants help sorting out coverage at the sheriff’s office since he won’t be in today, and Walker can’t fill in.
“Of course. I’ll see you in a minute.” I squeeze Walker’s arm lightly before stepping around them into Mama’s room.
She’s sitting reclined in the hospital bed, her hair braided over one shoulder and a blanket tucked around her legs.
An overbed tray stretches across her lap, where she’s propped an iPad playing an episode of Gilmore Girls.
Thank god for Tess, who must have thought ahead to bring a little comfort from home to help Mama feel more at ease.
When she looks up and spots me, the corners of her lips lift.
“Mama!” I exclaim, rushing to her bedside and bending down to hug her.
“Hi, honey,” she says, then gives a weak cough.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.” I drape the second blanket over her legs and settle on the edge of the bed. “How are you doing?”
Another cough rattles through her thin frame, but she still manages to broaden her smile. “I’m b-better, now that you’re here.”
“Good,” I answer, kissing her cheek. “Because I’m not going anywhere until you’re discharged.”
I texted my boss, Ed, on the way here, giving him a heads-up that I won’t be in to work for a few days. Having lost his mom last year, I know he’ll understand why I need to be here.
“I’m l-looking forward to it, my sweet girl,” Mama says.
My eyes sting with tears. “You really had me worried.”
She reaches out a trembling hand and squeezes mine. “Don’t w-worry. I intend to be around for a while yet.”
Her reassurance eases the tightness in my chest. Despite all the challenges we’ve faced since her diagnosis, we’re extremely lucky she’s with us—able to speak, laugh, and do the things she loves, even if in a modified way.
She glances toward the door with a furrowed brow. “Where’s your father?”
“He’s speaking with Walker, but they should be in soon.”
“Walker H-Halstead?”
“Yeah, he’s who drove me here. We’re kind of dating,” I blurt, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “It’s a little complicated, which is why I didn’t mention it sooner. But I promise, once you’re feeling better, I’ll tell you everything.”
Mama opens her mouth to speak, but stops, as if reconsidering.
If she has questions or reservations about Walker and me, I have no doubt she’ll voice them when she’s ready.
The truth is, I don’t have any answers right now anyway.
Walker and I only confessed our feelings yesterday.
There hasn’t been time to talk about the future or what any of this means.
All I know is that we want to be together, and right now, that’s more than enough.
I get off the bed and tug the blankets tighter around Mama. “I’m going to check and see what’s taking the guys so long. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” she says, biting her lip.
I glance into the hallway, frowning when I don’t see Dad or Walker.
I head to the waiting area at the end of the wing, and when I turn the corner, I find them standing next to the snack station beside a row of chairs.
They’re alone—Dad’s brow is drawn tight, and Walker’s stare is unwavering.
They’re so absorbed in their discussion that they don’t seem to notice me.
Curiosity prickles as I drift closer, trying to eavesdrop without giving myself away.
“I’m not hiding this from Birdie anymore,” Walker insists, irritation edging his voice. “She deserves the truth, and I’m done keeping secrets from her.”
Dad takes off his cowboy hat and rakes a hand through his hair. “She might not take it well.”
“You won’t know unless you give her the chance,” Walker counters. “She has my full support—and her friends’ too—but they can’t be there for her if they don’t understand everything she’s been through, and that includes coping with her mom’s Parkinson’s.”
How does he…?
Alarm bells ring in my head as I recall his earlier comment about not wanting any more secrets between us—implying he’s kept something from me. Unwilling to endure the suspense any longer, I step forward, determined to get to the bottom of this.
I move to stand between Walker and my dad. “How do you know about my mom’s diagnosis?”
They both freeze like deer caught in headlights.
Walker recovers first, clearing his throat before turning to my dad. “Sheriff Matterson, could I have a minute alone with Birdie?”
My dad hesitates before nodding. “Yeah, I think it’s best if you two talk first.” He turns to me with a somber expression. “Just remember, every decision I’ve made has been out of love for you and your mother, and I’ve done my best, given our situation.”
I hesitate, taking him in. His eyes plead silently for me to keep an open mind, yet all I feel is confusion.
“I know, Dad, and I love you too,” I whisper.
He leans in and presses a kiss to my temple before walking away. As he rounds the corner and disappears from view, Walker looks at me, his shoulders slouched and lips pressed into a thin line, guilt written across his face.
He gestures to a nearby bench. “Mind if we sit?”
I wring my hands. “Sure.”
We take a seat, Walker settling in next to me. He takes my hand and rests it in his lap, holding it tight as if I might disappear if he lets go.
I shift to face him. “Could you please tell me what’s going on?”
He inhales deeply. “About two years ago, your dad called me into his office and told me about your mom’s diagnosis. He had been traveling more than usual and asked if I could help out with the yard and house maintenance.”
My hand stiffens beneath his, heat creeping up my neck as I realize how oblivious I’ve been.
I should have asked Dad who was doing the yard work when I first noticed the change.
I assumed he was handling it himself or had hired a professional.
It never occurred to me that he’d ask Walker.
Then again, I should have known he wouldn’t let just anyone around the house, not with how adamant he’s been about keeping things under wraps.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, unable to mask the pain in my voice.
I talk about Mama often, yet Walker never hinted that he was aware anything was wrong. He had countless chances to come clean, especially over the past few weeks.
“Your dad asked me not to tell anyone—including you,” he confesses. “I couldn’t risk breaking his trust and losing the chance to help your family. He’d been avoiding the situation, and I wasn’t about to let you take on more than you already had.”
“Did Mama know?”
I’m assuming that if she did, Dad had asked her to keep it from me too. That could explain why she hesitated after I told her Walker and I were dating.
“Not until a few months ago. She saw me shoveling the driveway from the living room window and asked her nurse to invite me in for hot chocolate. When I spotted a historical romance on the coffee table, I mentioned that my ma loves them too.” He smiles wistfully.
“Your mom looked sad when she explained that she couldn’t read anymore because holding a book had become too difficult.
So I offered to read to her. I’ve stopped by twice a week ever since—usually on nights you’re working late or out with the girls. ”
I blink at him, unsure how to process his latest confession. Mama’s always been particular about audiobooks and narrators, which is why she rarely listens to them. But Walker’s voice is smooth, steady, with just a hint of huskiness, so it’s no wonder she enjoys listening to him read aloud.
My thoughts drift back to our conversation at the drive-in, when I asked if he read romances.
This must be what he meant when he responded with or something.
It also explains the stack of books at his place and why they felt familiar.
They’re some of the same ones I’ve noticed on Mama’s bedside table in recent months.
Even though I have every reason to be upset at him for hiding this from me, the newest revelation makes it nearly impossible.
The man helps run a ranch and is a sheriff’s deputy, yet somehow found the time to read to Mama—the woman who means more to me than life itself—and for that, I’m sincerely appreciative.
What I can’t figure out is why he did it. I understand him agreeing to handle the yard work, but spending several extra hours each week at my parents’ house doesn’t make sense without a good reason.
“Has my dad been paying you?” I question, wincing.