Chapter 32
Maggie stills beneath me. “Should you get that?”
My head drops to her chest with a groan. “It better freaking be important.” I reach sideways, patting blindly across the coffee table until my fingers knock into the In-N-Out bag from earlier. The phone’s underneath it, screen lit, Hannah’s face staring back at me.
“What time is it?”
“After ten,” Maggie says, pushing onto her elbows as I climb off her.
I pace the short length of the trailer, my gaze darting to the clock on the microwave: 10:26. “Hey, kiddo, what’s—”
“I’ve been calling and t-texting you for hours,” she says, stuttering through tears that send my pulse racing. “It’s Mom. She fainted.”
My stomach tightens. Unless I’m actively filming, my phone’s never more than an arm’s reach away. Except tonight, apparently.
You were a little distracted.
I stop pacing and turn around. Maggie’s fastening her bra.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“The hospital.”
“Who are you with?”
“Miss Lois.” She says something I can’t make out, and then her nanny gets on the phone. “Holden? We’re at Cedars. Cara collapsed at the house and we’re just waiting for the doctor. Don’t worry about Hannah. I’ll stay with her tonight.”
“Where’s my dad?”
“I haven’t been able to reach him.”
Of course not.
“Tell Han I’m coming,” I say, grabbing the T-shirt and jeans I’d tossed over a chair. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Be careful.”
I dress quickly, eyes tracking Maggie as I dial my PA. He picks up on the first ring.
“Amar, I need you, man.”
“You got me. What’s up?”
“Cara’s in the hospital. I need a flight out of Austin ASAP.”
“Got it. Give me a sec.”
There’s muffled talking, dishes clinking, the scrape of a chair. Then a door shuts and everything goes quiet.
Maggie’s fully dressed, tugging on her baseball cap when Amar comes back on.
“Nothing commercial this late,” he says. “But I’ve got a charter lined up at Austin Executive.”
I love that he doesn’t ask—he just books it. Because when it comes to my sister, he knows I won’t hesitate.
I lean against the sink. “And a car—”
“Will be waiting for you at LAX.”
“Thanks, buddy. I appreciate it.”
I disconnect the call and shoot Artie a text. Cara’s in the hospital. I need a few days
I’ll make it work, he types back. Keep me posted
I slip my phone in my pocket and grab my backpack.
“I’ll drive,” Maggie says, keys already out.
“My driver’s here somewhere. I can just—”
“I’d like to.”
“Okay.”
She’s kind in ways that sneak up on you.
She opens the door, then waits while I take a quick glance in the mirror.
“Dammit,” I mutter. “Don’t have my hat.”
Maggie raises a brow at the Stetson. “You’d probably draw more attention with that thing.”
“It’s fine. I’ll have Amar bring something. You ready?”
“Hang on.” She takes off her B&B hat and settles it on my head. “Looks good on you too.”
Such a simple thing. She probably has a hundred more just like it at home. But something in my chest loosens all the same.
“It could tie me to you,” I say. “If someone Googles it.”
She smiles. “Good.”
It’s after 1 a.m. Pacific by the time I get to Cedars. Amar’s waiting just outside the emergency room entrance—slim, mid-thirties, with warm brown skin and dark eyes that miss nothing. Dressed in starched jeans and a black jacket, he always looks composed, even in the middle of the night.
I’m the opposite—wrinkled T-shirt, trashed high-tops, and a general air of please don’t look too closely.
He gives me a nod as he finishes up a call, then pockets his phone.
“Flight okay?” he asks, handing me a visitor’s pass, face mask, and a thermos of coffee he no doubt brought from home.
“There was a little turbulence. Not too bad.” I slap on my pass, then take a long sip from the thermos, the strong, dark brew cutting through the fog. I usually drink it black, but Amar always adds just a little sugar, proof he knows me a bit better than I know myself. “Thanks for this.”
“You hungry?”
“Nah, man. I’m good.”
The glass doors whoosh open with a blast of cold air and fluorescent light. I pull on the mask and follow Amar past security, who doesn’t give us a second look.
We move through a maze of dimly lit corridors, pausing to be buzzed through a few locked doors before reaching the main elevators.
“She’s on the seventh floor,” Amar says, not even winded, while I’m still trying to catch my breath. “Second door past the nurses’ station. They’re expecting you.” He hits the call button. “Want me to come with?”
I yawn into my hand and shake my head. It’s after three in Texas, and even though I slept most of the day, I’m beat. That power walk didn’t help.
“Get home to Sean,” I say. “Sounded like I interrupted something earlier.”
“Dinner with my mother. Thanks for that, by the way.” He shifts his weight, hands sliding into his coat pockets. “Listen, Hannah and Lois are still here.”
“This late? It’s the middle of the damn night.”
“Go easy,” he says. “Your sister’s a little freaked out.”
“Yeah. Shit. Of course she is.” The elevator doors open and I step inside. “Thanks, boss.”
“I’ll swing by your place, make sure it’s ready for you.” His eyes lock on mine as the doors begin to close. “Call me if you need anything.”
I nod once, then press the button for seven.
My shoes squeak against the linoleum as I step onto Cara’s floor.
The sound echoes down the empty hallway, mingling with the steady beep of monitors and the ring of an unanswered phone.
I cross the short distance to her room, pull off the mask, and quietly open the door.
Cara and Lois are asleep. Hannah’s curled up in a blue vinyl recliner, staring at her phone, the screen lighting her face.
I shoot her a text. Look up
She does, and the smile she gives me is worth every exhausting second it took to get here.
“Holden!” She springs from her chair and throws her arms around my neck, sloshing the coffee in my thermos. I set it on the tray table by the door.
“Easy, kiddo. You’ll wake your mom.”
She’s still in her soccer uniform, grass-stained, socks slouched around her ankles.
Did this happen at her game? Did she think her mother was dead?
I tug on her braid that’s coming loose. “How’d you do?”
“We lost.”
“Both of them?”
She nods, eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Mom didn’t go. She wasn’t feeling good.”
Thank God. The relief is overwhelming. But what about next time?
“Holden.” Cara’s voice cuts through my thoughts, strained and weary.
It’s a disease, I remind myself. She’d never intentionally hurt Hannah.
I manage a smile. “Hey there, drama queen. How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
Hannah sighs. “She’s always tired.”
Lois stirs with a quiet yawn, sitting up in her chair, easing the footrest down. “Speaking of tired, it’s late, sweet pea. Let’s get you home and let Holden have some time with your mama.”
“No! He just got here.” It’s a high-pitched whine, teetering on the edge of tears. But instead of arguing, she crosses the room to kiss her mother goodbye, which tells me just how wiped she must be.
“How ’bout this?” I say as she drags her feet toward me. “Sleep in tomorrow—and let me sleep in—and we’ll hit the waves in the afternoon.”
“Just us?”
“Obviously.”
“Wetsuit?”
I make a face. “Uh, yeah. It’ll be Elsa-level cold.”
Her arms circle my waist, and I bend to kiss the top of her head.
“I’ve missed you,” she says.
My throat tightens. Once summer’s over and I’m spending more time in Texas, she’ll miss me even more.
“I’ve missed you too, Banana.”
Lois and Hannah head out. I pace the floor at the foot of Cara’s bed, hands stuffed in my pockets, chewing on words I shouldn’t say.
“I’m not drinking,” she says quietly. “I know that’s what you’re thinking, and I don’t blame you. But I’m not. Haven’t in years.”
My feet stop cold. “Years? What about last month, when Lois had to translate because you weren’t making any goddamn sense?
Or a couple weeks ago, when you called me crying because Reinhold threatened our Hawaii plans?
” I tear off my hat and rake my hand through my hair.
“I know this is hard. I know you might slip. But don’t lie to me, Cara. ”
She takes a slow, measured breath, then glances at the chair beside her. “Will you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.”
A retort claws at the tip of my tongue, but a nurse walks in to check her vitals, so I drop into the chair, setting my hat beside a giant bouquet of sunflowers crowding the nightstand.
A few minutes later, the nurse slips out.
I jut my chin at the flowers. “Who sent these?”
“Cade. They’re my favorite. I’m actually surprised he remembered.” Her smile catches in the mirrored vase. “Our parents took us to France when we were ten. You know that picture of me in the sunflower field? The one on the mantel?”
I love that picture. She could’ve passed for Hannah.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, eyes on the floor. “So you’re talking to Cade now?”
“It’s complicated, but yeah. Sort of.” She clears her throat. “Holden, will you look at me, please?”
For the first time since I walked into her room, I look at her—really look at her—and it knocks the air out of me. She’s gaunt. Hollow-eyed. Her cheekbones are too sharp, her lips cracked and colorless.
It’s a jarring difference from the last time I saw her. Months ago now, I realize.
Hannah mentioned the weight loss, but since we’re in LA, I assumed it was the same GLP whatever the whole city seems to be on.
But this…this is more than a few months of some diet drug.
It’s more than a couple of benders.
I swallow. “You’re telling the truth.”
A single tear slides down her cheek and I go very still. “I have cirrhosis.”
“Cirrhosis,” I repeat, the word echoing in my head. “All this time, you let me believe—”
“I didn’t want to worry you…if there was a chance.”
“Is there?”
She slowly shakes her head. “Figures, right? Karma had to catch up with me eventually.”
“This isn’t karma, Cara. You were young and—” My voice breaks. “Fuck. I’m sorry. This is just…”