Chapter 16
Regan
My phone buzzes loudly on the nightstand. I groan, one arm flinging across my eyes to block out the light filtering through the curtains. As I stretch toward the sound, every sore muscle aches.
Eight fifty-five.
Seriously? It’s too early on a day off.
I squint at the screen, expecting a work alert or maybe a message from Scarlet. But no, it’s Mom. I blink, remembering I was going to call her today.
I swipe to answer and croak, “Hi.”
“Are you still in bed?” she asks, amused and not even trying to hide it.
“Yeah,” I admit, dragging myself upright and fluffing the pillow behind me. My back hits the headboard. “It’s been a long week. I was actually going to call you when I got up.”
“Well, I beat you to it.”
“You did.” I smile, the sound of her voice already making the morning feel a little less rough. “What are you up to today?”
“I was heading to work later, but figured I’d check in. See how everything’s going.”
My mom’s a hospital administrator. She’s constantly juggling crises and staying late, so a morning call from her is basically a miracle.
I nod, even though she can’t see it. “Yeah, it’s good. I feel... more settled.”
“I’m glad, sweetheart.”
I hesitate, choosing my next words carefully, because I don’t want to bring up helping Dad with the renovations. That feels... weird.
“I went to the King’s for dinner last night.”
“Oh, nice. How was it?”
“Honestly? The house is still as gorgeous as ever. They’ve updated a few things, but otherwise still just as grand.”
“They haven’t changed, have they?” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice.
“Nope. Still the same sweet people they’ve always been.”
“They invited my mentor. He’s close with the family since he helped Dusty with his heart condition.”
“Oh, that’s lovely. How’s that going, having him as a mentor?”
I lean back, the memory of our disagreement at work still fresh. “He likes structure. His way or nothing. We clashed over a patient last week, but I ended up being right.”
She laughs, a light, proud sound that bubbles through the speaker. “Trust you.”
I grin to myself.
“Well,” she says, thoughtful, “maybe he was just in work mode.”
“Yeah. He did seem different. More relaxed.”
“Makes sense. Not at work, not having to act like your superior.”
“True.” I run my fingers through my messy bed hair, thinking about how Brant looked last night… our accidental touches, his easy grin, intense eyes…
“What’s your plan for today?” she asks, cutting off my thoughts.
I glance over to the window. Sunlight streams through the cracks of the blinds. “Honestly? No idea. Just... see where the day goes.”
“Is your father working or hanging around today?”
Mom asking about Dad feels like walking on eggshells, checking to see if he’s still the man she left behind.
I glance toward the hallway, half-expecting him to appear.
“I don’t know. Haven’t seen him yet. But we’ve been working on the house together.
Cleaned out the spare room, painted it. We talked about doing more. ”
“Are you still ready to bolt back to the city?”
A week ago, I would’ve said yes, but now... after painting with Dad, after seeing him laugh at the thrift shop, after… Brant. The job is waiting, my dream, yet the thought of leaving doesn’t feel right in my gut. “No, it's better. He knows I got the position back in the city after residency.”
She draws in a sharp breath. “And how did he take it?”
“As well as you’d expect.”
She chuckles. “So, not great.”
“No, but... weirdly, he’s been different the last couple of days.”
“Different how?” she asks gently. “Better or worse?”
I pause, debating whether to say more. Telling her he might be changing feels risky. But he won’t move to New York, so I answer.
“Better. Like he’s actually trying.”
“I’m glad, sweetheart. I really am.”
Her voice is warm and genuine. I think about Nancy at the thrift shop, the way he smiled. Maybe he’s finally ready to let someone in.
“I miss you,” she says suddenly. “It’s quiet here. Lonely.”
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
She hums. “I’m excited to have you visit soon. Even if you are a little... buzzy.”
“Busy, Mom,” I correct, tossing the blanket off. I swing my legs over the side of the bed. “I better go and get moving. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Alright, love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and wander across the hallway to the kitchen. Dad’s already at the table, eating eggs and a toasted bagel, reading something on his phone.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning,” he mutters without looking up.
Ah. We’re back to that version of him. How disappointing. I thought we had made progress…
“Is your mother telling you to go back to the city?” he grumbles.
I blink, caught off guard. He must have heard our conversation. “What? No. She’s happy I’m here.”
“Yeah, but she knows you’re leaving. Just like she did.”
We were just starting to find our way back to each other, like when I was younger, and now he’s throwing it in my face again. It’s like everything we’ve done means nothing.
I pull a chair out and sit. “Listen. I’m here for almost a year. She’s my mother. I know you two had your issues, but I’m not her. She’s not here. I check in with her because I want to.”
He grunts. His jaw tightens, and I swear I see a flicker of something that looks like hurt in his eyes.
“You know what I think?”
He looks up, suspicious.
“You should ask out Nancy from the thrift shop.”
He nearly chokes on his coffee. “What?”
“You heard me. She’s sweet. She’s funny. And she clearly likes you.”
He scowls, but I catch a flush covering his nose. Got him. He can grumble all he wants, but I saw the way he looked at her, and now he knows I saw it too. “You’re meddling.”
“Maybe.” I don’t want to push any more, so I move to a safer subject. “So, should we tackle another room today?”
He chews slowly, then mutters, “We’ve got the shed.”
“Perfect.” I smile. “Let me finish breakfast and change. Then we’ll get to it.”
He nods, still grumpy, but less so than before. And somehow, that lifts something inside me.
I fix a quick bowl of cereal, pour myself a cup of coffee, and eat at the table while he finishes his bagel.
Time passes quickly as we clean out the shed. We head into town, and I make him stop by Nancy’s “just for a quick hello,” while I pick up lunch for us from The Cozy Point.
On the way back to the truck, he whistles. Actually whistles.
I grin. My plan is working. I’m going to keep it up. And when this house is finished, I’m inviting Nancy over for dinner. I’ll get Dad back out there, off my mom, and more importantly, off my back.
By the time I leave, maybe he won’t be so miserable anymore.