Page 104 of Catching Feeling

All that really matters is getting her the help that she needs. “I never want to lose you, Mom.” I sniffle.

“You’re not, sweetheart. I promise that things are going to change. I know it won’t be easy, and I’ll never stop missing your dad. I’ll never stop loving him and wishing that he was here with us.” Her voice breaks, and she pauses to gather her composure. “I’m not going to get any better on my own. The doctor recommended some local therapists, but he also mentioned there are more intensive therapeutic recovery centers that help people struggling with their mental health conditions, some that even specialize in grief and depression. Given what happened today, he said it could potentially also be…PTSD. He recommended I talk to a therapist first to see what kind of treatment is best. I may even need to be put on some medication, but he thought something like that might be good for me. The centers are expensive, I’m sure, but maybe our insurance would cover a portion of it.”

I nod. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes, we’ll figure it out.”

“I love you, sweetheart, and I’m sorry to put you through this,” Mama says, regret lacing her tone.

I shake my head, sitting up on the bed so I can look into her eyes. “No more apologies. Okay? From either of us. We’re doing the best that we can, and that’s all that matters. That we’re together and trying. Moving forward, we’re going to be open and honest with our healing. Because I think we both have some healing to do.”

As she nods, there’s a soft rap on the door, and then a doctor steps inside. His white coat swishes around him as he makes his way over to us with a smile that crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

“Well, how’re we doing in here? Mrs. Brentwood, this must be your daughter?” he says, extending his hand toward me to shake. “I’m Dr. Stephenson, your mother’s admitting physician.”

Immediately, I like him. His pleasant bedside manner. His trusting smile.

Mom nods as we shake hands. “Yes, this is my daughter, Vivienne.”

“Hi, Dr. Stephenson, it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for taking such good care of my mom.”

He waves his hand through the air, smiling softly as he flicks his gaze back to mama. “It’s my pleasure. I looked over the CT scan and the MRI results, and the good news is that there’s no bleeding on the brain or any surgery needed. So she should be able to bust out of here to recover at home after a night of observation and pain management. You’ll need to be sure you’re getting a lot of rest.”

Relief floods my chest. Thank god. I can’t even fathom leaving her here alone, which means I’ll be sleeping in this tiny little armchair near the window until she’s released.

“I did have a couple questions…” I glance at Mom before dragging my gaze back to the doctor. “She mentioned that you told her about some treatment options for her mental health. Is that something we can go over in detail?”

“Absolutely. I’d be happy to help with a plan. My colleague Dr. Oliver is the psychiatric physician on call. Together, we can gather some options for us to discuss that tend to both her physical injuries and her mental health recovery.” He grabs the chart off the table near the whiteboard and glances through it. “Let’s take a look at all your vitals first, and I want to check a few of those cuts. When I check back later today, I can introduce you to Dr. Oliver, and we can lay out a few treatment plans so we can help with any next steps before you head home.”

I can see Mom nodding out of my periphery. “Yes, that would be great.”

She seems almost… hopeful? For the first time in a long time. And that makes me feel so happy my chest could burst. It’s been a whirlwind of emotions since I woke up this morning, but I’m so thankful. Grateful more than anything that she’s here… and ready to take the next steps toward healing.

Dr. Stephenson reviews Mama’s chart and her pain scale, then looks over the cuts on her face. “Everything looks good. I’ll check in on you later. In the meantime, if either of you have any questions, please let me or one of the nurses know. I’ll let you get some rest,” Dr. Stephenson tells her.

“Thank you so much,” Mom says as he opens the door and slips out of it. Before it shuts, a hand catches it, and Reese pokes his head in tentatively.

I give him a soft smile and gesture him in.

He strolls through hesitantly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and a worried smile on his handsome face. I want to pitch myself off the bed into his arms. His hair is disheveled, which tells me that he’s been running his hands through it the entire time he was waiting, nervously if I had to guess.

God, it will never get old.

Those butterflies swirl in my stomach at the sight of him. He’s been my strength through all of this, even when I didn’t deserve it, even when I didn’t think I wanted it, and… I… I just fucking love him.

With my entire heart.

“Hi, Ms. Brentwood,” he murmurs, making his way over. “I’m so glad that you’re okay. If you need anything at all, let me know, and I’ll be there. Anything, okay?”

Okay, now I’m just a melted pile of goo for him. He’s so sweet and thoughtful to my mama, and it makes my heart ache… in the best way. I feel like I can’t even explain it, but god, I feel it.

I think this might be what being in love is. Being perpetually crazy about someone.

“Thank you, darling. Thank you for taking such good care of my little girl,” she says, reaching out to grab his hand and hold it tightly in hers. “Thank you, Reese. I’m so glad she has you.”

His dark eyes shine with sincerity as he tells her, “I’ll always take care of her. I promise you.” And then he gives me his trademark smirk.

Great, now I’m crying again, fat, heavy tears coating my cheeks as I watch the exchange between them.

He dips down and presses a sweet kiss against my head as Mama says, “I think I’m going to get some more rest. I’m feeling a bit tired already. The medicine they gave me makes me drowsy.”

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