Page 47 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

The drive to the hospital is a blur. Theo keeps glancing at me in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowed with worry. "She'll be okay," he says, though I'm not sure if he's trying to convince me or himself. "Birdie's tough as nails, remember?"

I manage a weak smile, memories of Birdie's stubborn determination flooding back. "Yeah," I whisper. "She is."

At the hospital, we're ushered into a waiting room. Hours crawl by, each tick of the clock a cruel reminder of how powerless I feel. I’m not family, so they won’t give me anyinformation. Theo and Cohen flank me on either side, a united front against the uncertainty.

I should be thinking about Birdie, about what this means for her—for us. Instead, I find myself hyper-aware of every point of contact between us. Theo's arm draped over my shoulders, Cohen's knee pressed against mine. Their quiet strength, their unwavering presence.

"Ms. Deveraux?" A nurse calls my name, and I snap to attention. "She’s awake. You can see Ms. Blackwood now."

As I stand, Theo squeezes my hand. "We'll be right here," he promises.

I nod, unable to find the words to express my gratitude. As I follow the nurse down the sterile hallway, I realize I haven't once stopped to marvel at how wonderful Theo and Cohen have been. Their support has been...everything.

I push open the door, my heart clenching at the sight of Birdie propped up in the hospital bed. Her usual vibrancy is dimmed, but her eyes still spark with that familiar mischief as she sees me.

"There's my girl," she says, her voice weaker than I've ever heard it. "Come here, darling."

I rush to her side, clasping her frail hand in mine. "Birdie, what happened? Are you okay?"

She chuckles, but it turns into a cough. "Oh, I've been better, dear. But don't you worry about me. We need to talk about you."

My brow furrows. "Me? Birdie, you're the one in the hospital."

"And I'm afraid I won't be leaving anytime soon," she says, her tone somber. "The doctors say my heart's giving out. It's time for me to make some changes."

The weight of her words crashes over me. "What kind of changes?"

Birdie squeezes my hand. "I'm selling the mansion, Skylar. I need to move to Florida to be with my sister and my niece. They can help care for me."

My world tilts on its axis. "But...but what about the garden? What about—"

"You?" Birdie finishes for me. Her eyes are full of understanding. "Oh, my dear girl. You've given that old house more life than it's seen in years. But it's time for both of us to move on."

I bite my lip, fighting back tears. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Birdie. That house...you...it's all I have."

She cups my cheek with her other hand. "You have so much more than you realize, Skylar. Those boys next door? They care about you. More than you let yourself believe. I see Theo sneaking in and out of the carriage house at all hours."

I shake my head, my walls threatening to crumble. "I can't rely on them. I can't rely on anyone."

"Sometimes," Birdie says softly, "the bravest thing we can do is let others in."

As her words sink in, I realize the future I thought I had mapped out has vanished. And I have no idea what comes next.

The ride back is a blur of city lights and muffled voices. I stare out the window, my forehead pressed against the cool glass, barely registering Theo and Cohen's attempts at conversation.

"Sky?" Theo's voice breaks through my haze. "You want to grab some food?"

I shake my head, not trusting my voice.

Cohen leans forward from the back seat. "We could stop for ice cream. Remember that place with the—"

"I'm fine," I manage, my voice hoarse. "Just...home. Please."

They exchange a look I catch in the rearview mirror, but mercifully fall silent.

As we pull up to the house, I see a familiar figure waiting outside. Austin. My stomach does an involuntary flip. Why is he here?

I stumble out of the car, exhaustion seeping into my bones. Austin's piercing blue eyes lock onto mine, and before I can process it, he's there. His hand, warm and steady, cups the back of my neck. With gentle pressure, he tilts my chin up.

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