Page 40 of Everything We Left Unsaid

Jacob

I was supposed to head back home this morning, but instead, I’m driving to Abby’s. I called my boss last night and told him what happened –the abbreviated version– and he agreed to grant me a few days’ vacation time. With over eighty hours racked up and no pressing issues on current projects, he really didn’t have a good reason not to.

When I walk into the house, Abby is buzzing around the kitchen preparing breakfast while Tiff nurses a cup of steaming black coffee at the kitchen table.

“Long night?” I ask, sinking into the chair next to her.

“Dacob!” At the sound of my voice, Chloe runs to me and demands I pick her up. She throws her arms around my neck and giggles when I press a kiss to her cheek.

Tiff smiles at us before answering. “Cinderella, here,” she begins, motioning toward Abby with her thumb, “kept me up half the night, regaling me with the tragic tale of your ill-fated love.”

Abby turns toward us and scowls at her friend. “You’re so full of shit,” she complains.

“Shit!” Chloe chirps.

“Damn it,” Abby exclaims in frustration. “I forgot that’s her new favorite word.” Tiff laughs so hard she nearly falls out of her chair. “Stop it, Tiff! That just encourages her.”

She laughs for a solid two minutes, wiping tears from her eyes until she finally straightens in her seat. “Anyway,” Tiff continues, “the hospital called at the ass crack of dawn this morning with an update on Ama.”

I sit up a little straighter, my ears perked and primed to receive new information. “What did they say?”

“She’s starting to wake up,” Abby says, sliding into the last empty chair at the table. “They’re going to try to remove that tube and let her breathe on her own.”

“That’s great!” I offer, a little surprised at how fast she’s progressing.

“That is, if she doesn’t remove it herself first,” Tiff provides.

“That can happen?” Abby asks, a mixture of shock and fear passing over her features.

“Yeah, mom says she sees patients do it all the time.” Tiff shrugs like it’s no big deal while Abby shudders, as if the thought of her grandmother removing the one thing that enables her to breathe terrifies her.

“As soon as breakfast is done, I’m gonna head to the hospital,” Abby announces.

“What are you going to do with Chloe? The sign outside the unit said no children.”

“Tiff is going to watch her, and Ethan is supposed to come over later to help. He’s at the hospital right now.”

Tiff stares down at her hands at the mention of Abby’s brother. Her eyes flash to me briefly before focusing back on her mug. Abby doesn’t notice the strained look on her face, but I do.

“That ought to be fun. Those two will have the house torn apart,” Tiff tries to joke, but it comes out flat.

“You’re probably right. My brother is a slob and Chloe’s a toddler. Bad combination.” She chuckles and shakes her head.

“This is true,” Tiff agrees, her tone lightening.

“Do you want me to come to the hospital with you? I could keep you company when you’re not in your grandma’s room,” I offer.

“Are you sure? I might be there a while.”

“Yeah, of course. If we need a break, we can run out and grab some lunch and come right back.”

“That would be great. Thank you.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, her eyes filled with gratitude.

We eat our breakfast and kiss Chloe goodbye, and then Abby goes through her list of instructions and rules with Tiff.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It hasn’t been that long since I babysat,” Tiff counters with disinterest.

Abby huffs out a sigh and rolls her eyes. “Just don’t give her a bunch of sweets like you did last time,” she warns. Tiff raises her hands in surrender.

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