Chapter 12
GEMMA
Now
What happened to Riggs and his unit made national headlines. The president held a press conference. It was reported on by Al Jazeera and CNN.
I don’t watch the news.
It’s not like I’m not interested in world events or that I don’t care about things that happen outside of Barrett.
I do—but when you’re seventeen and your grandfather has a massive stroke that doesn’t quite kill him, and you decide that instead of college or running off to live a real life, you’re going to get your home health license so you can care for him at home instead of letting him spend his last years in a place that smells like disinfectant and overcooked carrots, you have to prioritize.
The state of the world took a backseat to taking care of Dent and after he died, it took a backseat to working myself into the ground so I could save the home he lived and died in.
That’s the only excuse I have for why I didn’t know about what happened.
How I can reconcile the fact that while I was here, arguing with my cat and feeling sorry for myself, Riggs was ten thousand miles away, trapped under the rubble of a leveled building, trying to survive long enough for the Army Core of Engineers to dig him out.
“He’s okay,” Reese says before reaching across the table to grab my hand. “He’s stateside now. In a Navy hospital in?—”
“It happened four months ago.” Looking down at her hand over mine, I try hard to grasp what she’s telling me.
That Riggs almost died. That he’s paralyzed.
That he’s finally coming home because as luck would have it, the surgeon who saved Sloane is also the surgeon who is going to help him walk again.
That he needs someone to take care of him while he recovers and Reese expects that someone to be me.
“Yes.” She nods carefully like it’s a trick question. “In January.”
Pulling my hand away from hers, I shake my head. “You should have told me.”
“I know.” Her eyes go wide like I slapped her in the face. “I just?—”
“I didn’t stop existing, just because my brother left you, you know?” It’s a low blow but I say it anyway because four months ago, Riggs was buried under a building. He was dying and no one bothered to tell me. Not my brother. Not Reese.
No one.
“Tag—” Swallowing hard, her face ashen, Reese lets it out on a breath.
“Don’t Tagalong me.” Lifting my hand, I jab a finger at her face.
“I was your friend, Reese—or at least I was dumb enough to think that I was. I deserve more than a wave from your squad car when you’re driving down the street or a how’s your day when I’m topping off your coffee at June’s.
” Shooting up from my seat, I start to scramble my hands across the scarred kitchen table—the same one Beck and I sat at for breakfast, every other Saturday and Sunday, until the day he left—to rifle through the stack of papers piled on top of it.
Finding what I’m looking for, I show it to her—the notice I came home to yesterday afternoon.
“And I sure as hell deserved more than coming home to find this waiting for me.”
“I’m a Barrett county deputy,” she reminds me quietly, her tone thick with shame. “Do you think I wanted to tack that on your door?” She looks like the thought of it makes her sick. “I was doing my job.”
“But you could have waited until I was home. Knocked on the door and handed it to me yourself—but I guess that’s just a little too hard for you, isn’t it?
” Dropping the notice back on the table, I shake my head.
“If you’re not here to arrest me or to give me another notice about how the county is going to take my home away, I’d like you to leave. ”
For a moment, Reese sits, glued to her seat by what looks like mortified shock because this didn’t go at all the way she expected.
Finally, she swallows whatever excuse is brewing in her throat and gives me a nod.
“You’re right,” she says while slowly standing.
“I’ve been avoiding you. I’ve been avoiding this place because I can’t avoid him. ”
Him is my brother.
“Sure you can,” I say callously. “Stop going to the movies.”
She gives me that slapped in the face look again. “His surgery is scheduled for tomorrow,” she informs me, rather than tell me what a mean bitch I’m being.
That means he’s here.
Riggs is already home.
“Once he’s discharged, he’ll need a place to stay,” she says, telling me what I already know.
“Somewhere close to the hospital. Somewhere equipped with wheelchair ramps, that meets ADA requirements and he needs someone certified in home health to help take care of him while he works on learning how to walk again.” Letting out a long, slow breath, Reese lets her gaze fall on the bright orange envelope I shoved in her face. “The VA will pay you.”
I bark out a sharp laugh edged with equal parts temper and panic. “You really think Riggs Wheeler is going to stand for little Tagalong helping him on and off the toilet?”
“The VA is providing a physical therapist, five days a week,” Reese tells me, her tone burgeoning with hope because while I already kicked her out, I haven’t made her leave yet—that means I’m still listening.
There’s still a chance I’m going to say yes.
“All I really need from you is a place to park his hospital bed.”
She’s lying. At the very least she’s understating her expectations and the level of care Riggs is actually going to need but I don’t call her out on it. “I can’t help you.”
“It’s not me who needs your help, Tag.” Reese shakes her head because it never occurred to her that I’d tell her no. “It’s Riggs. Hate me all you want but?—”
“I have some place to be,” I tell her. An hour ago, going to Sloane’s for her and River’s weekly hen party was the last place I wanted to go but right now, I’d jump off the Barrett bridge to get away from Reese and this conversation.
“Thanks for stopping by—can you lock the door on your way out? That way my asshole cat doesn’t let in any more unwanted visitors. ”
Not waiting for her to answer me, I turn away from the table and the look Reese is giving me from across it, to go upstairs so I can hide until she’s gone.