Page 41 of Always Be an Us

"Maybe," Rick sounds doubtful about it. "But anyway, I'm glad it's covered, even if it's by the likes of him."

"Yeah." I check my watch. "I'll just hang around for a few hours and then go see Grandpa. Hey, can I give some of the money to Lou to cover her gas? And pay you back later?"

Rick makes a face but ultimately relents.

"Knock yourself out, kiddo." He ruffles my hair fondly and then returns behind the counter to balance the books.

A few hours later, I'm saying goodbye to Rick and heading to the hospital.

Grandpa has been admitted and the internal medicine waiting area is way more active today. Just as I'm arriving at Grandpa's room, I nearly bump into a familiar figure leaving.

"Poppy?"

She squints a little before she recognizes me. Poppy does own glasses but hardly ever wears them. "Ah, Emma."

"Yeah, it's me." I cock my head. "Did you come to visit Grandpa?"

She frowns but I could swear she was blushing. She sticks a stern finger in my face. "Now don't get any strange ideas. I was just making sure the old man hadn't croaked is all."

I try not to smirk. "Sure. I believe you."

She nods firmly and then walks off with brash, long strides, a small force of nature.

I shake my head and head inside.

The tart smell of disinfectant hits me, accompanied by an artificial linen fragrance that isn’t enough to deodorize the bitter scent of blood in the air. I shiver at the cold air that fills the room, even colder than in the hallway.

Cold as a morgue.The thought has fear spiking through me and I swallow it down fast.

Grandpa is lying in bed so quietly, the only motion on the monitors that beep by his bedside.

He doesn't wake up for the whole visit but I sit and hold his frail, cold hand that feels small and weak in mine. I talk to him the entire time. Mostly I chatter on about nothing, simply reiterating happier times, and how much I wish he was awake and fishing right now.

And then, when I run out of things to talk about, I simply close my eyes and pray he gets better after the surgery.

The sun seems to set quickly which means visiting hours are over.

Then I head over to the Marriott, a forty-five-minute bus ride away.

The Marriot is one of the fancier hotels we have in town. It's not quite as large as the ones in California or any other major city, but it boasts six floors of art deco-style elegance, with brown wooden accents to give it the feel of a large lodge.

The waitress at the front desk has a wide smile for me, and when I introduce myself, she buzzes me up after a simple glance at my ID.

I suppose Declan informed her I would be stopping by. Or maybe I just have one of those trustworthy faces.

Either way, I smile my thanks and head on up.

In my little experience with hotels, the higher you go the fancier the rooms get. Declan is on the topmost floor, which is ornamented with decadent Moroccan rugs, gold trim on the wooden accents, and the scent of fresh eucalyptus in the air.

I walk down the wide hallway, to the large oak door at the end of the hall, far away from all the other doors, suggesting just how huge the room on the other side of it is.

As I knock, I feel my heart racing.

The door pulls open and Amelia stands there with a smile. "Hey, Emma! I was waiting for you. How is your grandpa?"

"He's great...are you going somewhere?" I notice that she has a sparkly pink suitcase at her side.

"Yeah." She rolls her eyes. "I have to go to my mom's. She's going to Fashion Week and I need to be there to show support." She glances back to her father for confirmation. He follows behind her with a steaming mug.

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