Page 45 of The Making of Marnie Jones

“Of course.” She palmed the keys, feeling the weight in her hand. “I'll be waiting.” She wanted to say more. To do more. Instead, she headed back toward the exit. When she entered the elevator and turned, she glimpsed him before the doors closed.

With his head bowed, he looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Chapter seventeen

WhydoIkeepfighting?

As Jake stood at the door of Olivia’s room, it felt like he was in a bottomless black pit. Marnie was willing to head back to the condo with him—for which he was grateful. Every time he separated from her, he half expected to never see her again.

The woman is so damn skittish.

Yet there’d been moments, like yesterday in the bistro, when he swore she relaxed. But in the hallway just now, she pulled back within herself. She didn’t seem capable of handling stressful situations—but was that any surprise? She’d spent seven years in a state of continual and unrelenting stress, and it surely wore on a person.

Beneath the outward timidity, she had strength. Maybe he might be able to bring it out more easily? If she could show Olivia…

Show her what?

He didn’t have a suitable answer when he entered Olivia’s room.

His niece sat cross-legged on the bed, looking mutinous. At least she’d changed. Gone was the bland standard hospital-blue gown. In its place were pink scrubs covered in teddy bears. The pants were short, but they’d been lucky there was a nurse who was even close in height to Olivia. The nurse’d gifted Olivia the scrubs so the girl had something to wear.

She wore her sneakers, which were pretty much the only clothing that survived the resuscitation process. Jake had swung by Lydia’s this morning to try to get clothes for Olivia, but the key no longer worked. Most likely, the landlord’d changed the locks. Regardless, Jake wasn't willing to risk taking her back there. He suspected nothing good had ever happened in that apartment, because his sister appeared negligent in the extreme. Olivia admitted to not seeing her mother for days at a time and, when Lydia was around, she was abusive and high.

He was at a loss. Because of the suicide attempt, he no longer trusted his niece, and anything she said was suspect. Although pain stabbed him every time he contemplated what she’d been through, she couldn't continue on her current path. Something had to give.

Tomorrow he’d buy her some clothes. One thing at a time.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay in the hospital?”

“I’m leaving.”

Not much room for equivocation. She stared at him without blinking. He could do this. He could hold his own against a nineteen-year-old girl.

Except she was more than that. She was a wounded animal, acting as if they backed her into a corner. Even if the overdose hadn’t been a suicide attempt, she’d still swallowed a handful of pills.

In the end, she broke the eye contact. “Whatever.”

What does that mean?

He was about to ask when Dr. Carlos breezed in.

The woman’s natural disposition was bright and cheery, her dark hair in a sleek bob, her brown eyes sparkling as if every day was a wonderful day.

Jake wished he felt the same, but only dread existed.

She placed Olivia’s chart on the trolley and pulled out her stethoscope. “One more listen.”

Olivia stiffened, then relented. Maybe she understood how important this was.

The doctor asked Olivia to take a couple of deep breaths, listening to her lungs and heart. She offered Jake a genuine smile. “All clear.”

“No permanent damage?”

The doctor shook her head. “She seems to have recovered. We’d prefer she stay another night, but since she’s insistent, you can take her home.”

She shook Jake’s hand and handed a card to Olivia.

“Call anytime.” With a wave, she left.

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