Page 105 of Lassoed Love

“I guess I should be grateful for that, at least.”

The nurse nods sympathetically. “He seems like a good man. Ishe a relative, or...?” she trails off, leaving the question open-ended. I shake my head, a bittersweet smile playing on my lips.

“No, he’s—” I sigh. “Definitelynota relative.” I huff a laugh. “It’s… complicated.”

The nurse smiles warmly, as if putting two and two together. “Ah, ‘complicated’ often means there’s a lot more to the story.”

“I guess so,” I say with a shrug. And with that, I wave as I turn to leave.

I push open the door to my father’s room in the ICU and find Imogen and Claire sitting on the small lounge. My eyes widen in surprise.

“What!? What are you two doing here?” Tears well up in my eyes. “Don’t you have work, Midge? And Claire? You’re still here? What about your job in the city?”

Imogen offers a soft smile. “To hell with work. We’re here for you, Isla.”

Claire brushes it off with a dismissive sound. “Pft, please, I took some time off. I practically run that place. They could never fire me.” She adds a snarky tone to lighten the mood.

In the small lounge of the ICU, tears welling up in my eyes, I approach them. They both stand up simultaneously, pulling me into a tight hug. Claire breaks the silence. “Baby girl, I’ve missed you. You have to fill me in on everything.” Since Claire arrived, we hadn’t gotten much of a chance to catch up, really. She’d been in and out of here, staying with Imogen in the meantime.

As we sit down, Imogen pulls tissues from her bag and hands themto me. She offers a comforting smile. I take a moment to collect myself, wiping away tears, and then I begin to share the chaotic events of the past few days. My voice trembles as I recount the accident, the MRI scans, and the tentative diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease.

Claire listens intently, her hand on my shoulder, while Imogen wipes away my tears, silently offering support.

Claire interrupts gently, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I wish I could have been here for you all this time. You’ve been through so much,” she says, with tears welling up in her eyes.

I manage a small smile, appreciating her sincerity. “It’s okay, Claire Bear. I’m just grateful you’re here now. Thank you for staying.”

She squeezes my shoulder, and her expression turns concerned. “And what about Xavier? How’s he holding up?” My gaze shifts to Imogen, and I wince. Imogen sighs, and Claire, noticing the subtle exchange, looks between both of us, her curiosity piqued.

“What? What have I missed? Tell me,” she urges, concern etched on her face.

I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the truth pressing down on me. “We were doing well, Claire,reallywell. But the night of the accident—everything changed.” My voice quivers as I relive the events of that painful night.

“He just—he’s been so helpful and so caring. I freaked out, like the fucking coward I am,” I begin, the words catching in my throat.

“I... I didn’t want to burden him. I was scared and just worried. So, I—I pushed him away, and it turned into this…argument. He left, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Imogen squeezes my hand, her eyes reflecting the understanding of shared pain. “Isla, sweetheart,” she murmurs gently.

“But I fucked up,” I admit, my voice breaking. “I fucked up so bad. I—I fell for him, and then I brushed things off like a selfish idiot.”

Both girls gasp at my admission, their expressions a mix of surprise and concern.

“You… you fell for him?” Claire says softly, as her eyes light up. “Are you in love with him?”

Sighing, I nod. “Yeah, I think I am. I can’t explain it, but I’ve never felt these emotions before, and we’d made such strong connections.”

“Babe, love can be messy. But messy doesn’t mean it’s over,” Imogen says in a soft voice.

Claire asks gently, “Have you—have you spoken to him? Texts? Anything?”

I respond with a shaky, “No,” my lips trembling.

“Ipushedhimaway. Why would he contact me? And—” my voice breaks, “he—he’s been visiting Dad. I just found out, and,uggghh—,” my voice falters as I turn my head to look up at the ceiling, inhaling a hard breath and exhaling it.

Claire leans in, offering a reassuring hug. “Look, I know nothing about love—” She shudders with disgust and I smile—Claire has never been the one to settle down. She’s too work-driven, says she ‘doesn’t have time for useless men and working with them every day has turned her right off’ I recall her past words.

“Sometimes we make mistakes, and it takes time to fix them. Just be patient and give him the chance to come back. Love has a way offinding its path, even in the messiest situations,” she reassures me.

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