Chapter 41
Tessa
Ifound Jo—or rather, she found me. Or rather… the concierge at the hotel found her passed the fuck out in front of the free-breakfast waffle maker.
I'd just gotten into my car to head to her house. I thought fixing that—or at least finding her—would make me feel differently than I did last night. But then the hospital called, and I only felt worse.
I didn't know I was her emergency contact, though that didn't surprise me.
A nurse with a calm, friendly voice told me that my sister was fine, but that she'd need to stay for monitoring, and hospital protocol meant she couldn't go home alone.
I almost asked her to scream I told you so to Jo before I showed up, just to save me the trouble.
But I didn't.
Instead, I said I was on my way and asked her to let my little sister know I'd be there as fast as I could.
Luckily, the convention was just under an hour and a half from Liam's house—about an hour from the little town Ruthie and I visited for her social studies project. And because of the time, and it being the weekend, I didn't hit much traffic.
Admittedly, I left the house before Liam woke up on purpose. I needed to find Jo before I could give him my full attention—before he asked where I was going. He didn’t need the added stress, and I didn’t need the reminder that I’d so easily skipped over it last night.
I needed to at least fix this part first.
I think this decision goes deeper than I want to admit. I’ve been so focused on how Ruthie might react to me stepping into her life in that capacity, that I never stopped to ask whether I was worthy of it. Of any of it.
I don’t know what a real romantic relationship looks like—one where both people are fully invested. I know Liam is more than I ever thought to ask for, but am I enough for him? For both of them?
I know he’s stressed about his future. And raising a preteen can’t be easy—I know how hard it is to stay on top of my siblings, and they’re all adults.
He hired me to make his life easier, not to add more strain.
I can do that as the nanny—take care of Ruthie, tidy up the house, bake banana bread until my fingers go numb.
But last night, curled around him and talking about this next chapter, it hit me that I don’t know if I know how to be more than that.
So now, I'm walking toward the room number the lady at the front desk gave me, fighting an internal battle between yelling at Jo and hugging her close, all while feeling guilty for leaving Liam and Ruthie, today of all days.
Peeking into the room, with sterile white walls and that hospital scent that's like latex and bleach had a baby, I find Jo. She's sipping apple juice from a straw jammed into a plastic carton, her eyes pinned to a rerun on MTV.
"You did this on purpose, didn't you?" I say, stepping inside.
Jo's eyes flick to me, a grin flashing across her face before reality settles in.
"Juice and The Hills? You know that was scripted, right?"
She scoffs, forcing her usual attitude. "Spoilers." She slurps up the last of her drink and sets it on the rolling table beside her bed. "I never watched it when it was popular… obviously. One man's rerun is another man's first time."
"Always too cool," I say, walking over to the empty chair beside her.
"Duh." She winks, but the way she fiddles with the corner of her blanket tells me she knows this banter's fleeting.
"Is that how you ended up here? Treating your blood sugar like it's a fad?" I ask, my real feelings surfacing even quicker than I thought.
"Tess, listen—"
"No, Jo, you listen." Something in me snaps. "How many times have we had this conversation? How many close calls? Do you think this disease is just something you don't have to deal with? Something you can just ignore?"
"Of course not," she whispers.
I don't sit—I can't. My heart pounds, and a red hot heat flushes every surface of my body. "This can kill you, Jo. Do you get that? You think it's a joke, but—"
"I don't think it's a joke."
I huff out a laugh, eyes tipping toward the ceiling. "You could've fooled me."
I pace the length of her bed, up and down, attempting to outrun the worry, frustration, and adrenaline clawing through me—over all of it. "I knew this was going to happen. I've told you over and over."
Up and down.
I scoff, crossing my arms and continuing to walk the length of the mattress. My voice trails off as my words grow quieter, and my anxiety boils higher in my belly.
"Today of all days," I continue.
Up and down.
"Today was supposed to be big," I mutter.
Up and down.
"Liam and I… we were gonna tell Ruthie that we want to be…"
I hit my leg on the metal frame of her bed, and a silence I'm not used to when I'm talking to my sister stops me cold.
Jo isn't arguing or sighing dramatically. She's pale, swaddled in a baby blue, hospital-grade blanket, her arm hooked up to tubes, her eyes glued to the chipped black polish on her fingers, and her jaw is working as she fights back tears I haven't seen since she was a kid.
I sigh, swallowing my concern—for her. For everything. "What happened?" I ask, finally easing into the seat. I sit forward so my forearms rest on the mattress.
She blows a heavy breath through her lips then slowly brings her gaze to meet mine. "I didn't eat much last night and… I still took my insulin."
"Jo…"
"I know." She lifts her hands in surrender. "But I spent my whole day on the phone with insurance trying to rush a preapproval for an insulin pump, and when I was done, I still had to pack and get all the way here. I just—I had too much going on. I wasn't thinking."
She looks at me, searching for a reaction.
"I know I suck at this, Tess," she adds quietly. "But it's all still so new. And it's a lot on top of everything else."
"I get that," I say, nodding as I place my hand on her wrist. "We just have to figure out how to make it easier."
"Well, that's what I was trying to do with insurance."
"I'm proud of you for that."
She huffs. "Well, don't be. They say I have to be covered when the procedure actually happens. And I'll be off Dad's insurance in like… a month."
I sigh, knowing how far out these procedures are scheduled. "We'll figure something out."
She smiles softly, her lips parting to speak—when there's a knock at the door.
"Can I come in?"
Jo says yes as I look up to see a nurse in deep purple scrubs. She has a long, jet-black bob, and the brightest green eyes I've ever seen. She's smaller than me, though not exactly petite, with tiny gold hoops in her ears and a diamond stud in her nose so subtle I almost miss it.
"Hi," she says brightly, holding her hand out to me. "I'm Lenora."
I stand to take it. "Tess. Jo's sister."
Lenora smiles as she grabs the chart at the end of Jo's bed. "I figured. I'd also be slightly terrified to have a hospital call my older sister if I got myself into a pickle—but she'd come anyway, and we'd probably end up holding hands too."
I peer down at Jo who paints a fake smile. Good. I'm glad she was scared—that makes two of us.
"So," her nurse says, flipping a page. "Did Joanna fill you in?"
"Oh, Jo is fine," my sister corrects.
"Only slightly," I say at the same time.
Lenora chuckles to herself, hanging the chart back on the post of the bedframe.
"Well, Jo here…" She emphasizes the nickname. "Forgot to eat dinner last night. Not sure how that happens, by the way—could never be me. And still took insulin. A for effort."
She winks at Jo, who immediately throws me a HA! take that look, which I brush off with an eye roll.
"But as we know…" Lenora continues, "You can't do that. So, when the waffle maker took too long this morning—which is what I'm personally blaming for all this—she took a little nap in the hotel lobby."
I glance down at Jo, who looks at me side-eyed. "I got the batter in, at least."
Her nurse purses her lips and nods her head in understanding. "She totally did. And I bet it's still not done. Seriously, those things take forever."
I laugh despite myself, then turn back to Lenora.
"Her EKG looks good," she says. "We've been monitoring her all morning—scheduled snacks, IV dextrose as needed. She should be good to go soon, but I do have to be honest with you, Jo."
She takes a step closer to the bed.
"I think it might be time to seriously consider a pump—or at least some additional training. It's been a bit now since your diagnosis, and I know this can be a lot, but we don't want another accident like this one."
Jo cowers slightly. "I know."
"Hey," Lenora says gently, placing her hand on Jo's wrist. "Maybe find some people who are in your same situation. It's always easier when you don't have to do it alone."
Something about that lands hard in my chest. Probably because I'm now hyper-aware of how alone feels.
Since Jo's diagnosis, I've been trying to help her my way—reminders, research…
reprimands. But I never considered that maybe she needs someone who's going through the same things she is more than any of that.
Someone who understands this disease not just as a to-do list, but as a life adjustment.
It makes me think of Liam and how he's in a boat similar to Jo's—navigating new, unfamiliar waters with their livelihood at stake. An ache twists low in my core. I should text him.
"Alright," Lenora says, dragging me back. "I'm gonna let you get out of here, but I want your sister—or someone—with you tonight, at least. I'd love it if someone stayed until you figured out your next steps so something like this doesn't happen again, but I'll leave that up to you guys."
Jo opens her mouth—to argue I'm sure—but her nurse beats her to it.
"I know you're capable, Jo, but this is a lot. And as you can see, the consequences aren't something to brush off. When you're overwhelmed and alone, mistakes happen. Sharing the load this comes with… it helps."
My eyes dart to her knowingly, and Jo's eyes coat with embarrassment or shame—something close to sadness.