Chapter 30
THIRTY
L andyn
The steady beep of the monitor beside my mom’s head is strangely soothing now. It’s been hours, but the panic I walked into this hospital with has dulled to a manageable level. She’s stable and awake. Chatting and giving me a hard time already.
“You should have seen the nurse trying to decipher your handwriting on the intake forms,” she says with a teasing smile, her voice hoarse. “I thought she was going to prescribe you a penmanship class.”
I roll my eyes, adjusting the blanket around her legs. “I was worried about you, Mom. I was writing in a hurry.”
Well, next time maybe Poppy can fill out the forms,” she says with a wink.
“Don’t talk about next time,” I say, tears pricking at my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today.
My mom in a hospital bed is something I can’t get used to.
No matter how good her spirits are. No matter how many tests they said they are going to run.
I wish they could tell us what is wrong with her.
I wish she didn’t have to be here at all .
A soft knock sounds at the door, and my dad steps in holding Poppy’s hand.
“That was fast,” I say turning to face them. “I thought you two were going to get a snack.”
My dad immediately sets Poppy in the chair at the end of the bed and hands her the iPad I luckily thought to bring with me as I rushed out the door.
He helps her with her headphones, then catches my eye and exhales.
“We didn’t make it to the cafeteria,” he says quietly. “Ran into someone on the way.”
I furrow my brow. “Who?”
He shifts slightly. “Ford.”
My heart jerks in my chest. “Ford is here?”
“He came looking for you. Said he’d been trying to get in touch.”
I glance toward Poppy instinctively, nerves spiralling through me. My dad’s voice softens. “He didn’t ask any questions,” he reassures me. “But he did look worried, sweetheart.”
I nod slowly, swallowing past the tight lump in my throat.
“He’s still in the waiting area,” Dad adds. “I told him you’d probably want to see him.”
Before I can respond, my mom speaks, her voice quiet but firm. “You need to tell him, Lan.”
My gaze swings back to Poppy, and for a beat, I feel like I can’t breathe. My mom places her hand on mine. “You can’t keep this from him forever. And the longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be.”
I close my eyes. “I don’t know how to tell him after all this time.”
“I know you’re scared,” she says gently. “But you didn’t build this lie because you were cruel. You thought it was the right thing to do. But he deserves the truth…” she pauses and nods at P. “And so does she.”
I blink fast, trying to keep the tears from spilling.
“He’s a good man, Landyn,” she finishes. “And he still loves you.”
My chest tightens. We haven’t said those three words, but I know Ford loves me.
I have felt it in every conversation, in every moment we’ve spent together.
The fact that he left work and all of his obligations to show up here for me today shows how much he cares.
He doesn’t do things unless he means them. That undoes me a little.
I draw in a deep breath, stand, and kiss my mom on the head. “Can you guys stay with her for a bit?”
My dad nods immediately. “Of course.”
Poppy giggles over something on her iPad as I reach out and push the curls back from her face, my hand lingering there for just a second before I turn and leave the room.
I spot him before he sees me.
Ford is sitting in a rigid plastic chair in the waiting room, one hand wrapped around a paper coffee cup. His other hand is raking through his hair, that familiar gesture that always meant he was thinking too hard.
The sight of him hits me like a wave.
He looks tired. Anxious. His brows are drawn tight, his eyes fixed on the floor like he’s willing it to give him answers. He doesn’t belong here—he’s all power and control, and hospitals are made of worry and waiting. But still, he came.
I walk toward him slowly, like I’m approaching something fragile.
He lifts his head.
His eyes meet mine and the way they soften—just slightly—is enough to make my throat close. He’s on his feet in an instant.
“Landyn.”
I smile. “Hey.”
He steps closer, then stops himself. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “My mom’s stable. They’re running tests. It’s…it’s been a long day.”
His shoulders deflate just a little. “I called. Texted.”
“I’m sorry. I was in such a rush when my dad called me this morning that I forgot my phone at home.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” His voice drops an octave, warm and steady. “I just—I didn’t know where you were. And when Becca said there was a family emergency?—”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He swallows hard, eyes dragging over me like he’s checking for visible damage. “You did.”
For a long second, we just stand there. The two of us in the middle of this too-bright waiting room, surrounded by ugly chairs and cheap vending machines. Somehow, he still looks like home.
I break the silence. “You came all this way.”
His gaze holds mine. “Of course I did.”
I nod again, feeling that knot in my chest twist a little tighter. “Do you wanna sit?” I ask, because I can’t take the way he’s looking at me—like he’s reading every lie I’ve ever told him, trying to rearrange them into the truth.
I nod toward a quieter corner with two padded chairs with a crooked side table between them. Ford follows, silent, as we sit.
He puts his coffee cup on the table and waits. And because I’ve kept enough from him, I give him something real.
“She hasn’t been feeling great for a while,” I say, staring at the floor. “I guess it started around a year ago with fatigue. Then stomach aches. She was dizzy all the time. Her appetite dropped. Some days she couldn’t even make it to lunch without needing to take a nap.”
“Did she see a doctor about it?”
“She brushed it off for too long,” I tell him. “Said it was just stress. Or maybe hormones. Then she fainted one afternoon and hit her head on the corner of the counter.”
“Jesus.”
“That’s when I decided to come back to Deep Cove. I needed to be closer to home. I found the cottage to rent and landed the interview with Cove.”
Ford leans forward, elbows on his knees. “So that’s why you came back.”
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
He looks at me for a moment, his gaze steady, like he’s trying to figure me out.
“You could’ve told me,” he says after a long pause.
“I’m not great at talking about it,” I whisper. “We’re still not sure what’s wrong. They’ve been running tests. She’s my mom. If anything ever happened to her?—"
Ford reaches for my hand, lacing my fingers with his. “Whatever I can do—anything—you know I will do it. I will find her the best doctors. The best team.”
“Ford—”
“You’re not in this alone. Let me be there for you, June.”
My eyes blur with tears that I try my best to contain and his hand squeezes mine just a little harder. We sit this way for one, two, maybe three heartbeats before he shifts in his seat and faces me. “When I got here, your dad was walking out of the ER with a little girl.”
My stomach drops.
His voice is quiet now. Careful. “Who is she, Landyn? ”
I try to look away, but he doesn’t let me, his eyes pinned to mine.
“Lan, is she yours?” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Do you have a daughter?”
I can’t run from it anymore.
I take a deep breath, my heart rattling against my ribcage.
“Yes.”