Page 1 of Thornhill Road

Tess

I pulled into thedriveway on Ramshorn Avenue and checked the time.

A sigh of relief passed between my lips when I saw I was ten minutes early.

“Hey, Siri—set timer, ten minutes.”

My phone talked back to me, alerting me to my ten-minute timer, then I leaned my head against the seat and closed my eyes. I was four hours away from the end of my double shift. That meant two more stops. Two more patients.

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes of sleep was going to carry me through.

It was all I needed.

Just ten minutes.

A knock sounded at my window.

I pulled in a deep breath and opened my eyes.

Seven minutes. I’d gotten seven minutes.

It would have to do.

Glancing out the driver’s side window, I saw Mitchell Jones offer me an apologetic smile and a timid wave. I smiled back at him. Not timid. Not apologetic.

Real.

Genuine.

Tired, but genuine.

He was a major reason why I was there. His mother was dying. Stage four lung cancer. Inoperable. Never smoked a day in her fifty-nine years.

Her life expectancy when I met her had been three months. Now she had weeks left. Six, maybe less. She wanted to spend what time she had remaining on this earth in the comfort of her own home, surrounded by family, and it was my job to make sure she got her dying wish.

I also considered it my responsibility to make sure both of her sons were well supported and looked after during such a difficult time.

I canceled my timer, grabbed my purse and my bottle of water—water I wished was coffee, even though I’d already had my fill—then moved to get out of my car.

“Hi, Mitch. How you doin’?”

“I’m so sorry to wake you. I’m sure you’re burning it at both ends. I saw you pull up, and I wanted a chance to talk before you came inside.”

Mitchell was average height with dark blond hair I was sure he got cut every four weeks, like clockwork. He had brown eyes, a strong, masculine jaw, and a subtle cleft chin that wasn’t unattractive.

“No need to apologize,” I said.

I meant it. Mitchell was the eldest of the two brothers. He was always so kind and gracious. It was obvious he loved his mother and felt quite helpless. He couldn’t fix her, but wherever he could step in or show up, he would. He was a good son. A good man. The kind of man I thought I should consider for myself.

Nothimof course. Aside from the fact that he was already married—and I made it a point not to date married men—he was related to one of my dying patients. Family members were strictly out of bounds. For ethical reasons, first and foremost, but also because I had unwavering boundaries when it came to mixing my work and my emotions.

It was critical in the field of hospice care.

All that aside, someonelikeMitchell was who I thought I should keep an eye out for. Someone stable with a good head on his shoulders. A man with a corporate job. Maybe even a job that required him to wear a tie.

As boring as it sounded, it also seemed quite safe.

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