Page 48 of Sinful Reality

“I ignored the signs until I couldn’t, then my butt ended up in the hospital a few months after Andy passed away. I thought I was just stressed from all that. Emotionally, mentally, and physically pushed to my limit. I thought taking a weekend off and catching up on my sleep would fix everything. But I suppose the universe had other plans for me. I’m doing okay now, though. My disease has progressed, but my ability to manage it has, too.”

“And your prognosis?”Though I already know. “What are the doctors saying?”

“I’ll need a transplant in the next year or two. But you know how these things go for single women lacking rich benefactors and deep pockets.” The phone shifts as her arm grows weak. “Lachy was in a home for special boys while I was in the hospital. I had no other choice.” She tears up. “There was no one else who could care for him at the time. He’s back with me now, but I have a meeting next week to talk about the future. You know…” Her voice breaks. “Just in case.”

“I understand.” I wipe my nose and scrunch my tissues. “What about Serena? She can’t stay with him?”

“No.” She glances down and fusses with the hem of her blanket again. “It’s too much, and that wouldn’t be fair. But this is a mother’s burden. We make plans and ensure our babies have what they need. It doesn’t matter that he’s grown now.” She swallows and looks up to meet my eyes. “Doesn’t matter that he’s old enough to beindependent. He’snot, and I’m still his mother. So I’ll do whatever I need to do to make it work.”

At a dull thud on her side of the line, Gloria peers to her right and smiles when a deep, muffled voice speaks to her off-screen. Heavy footsteps echo against wooden stairs. Then, her happiness grows when a shadow falls across her face.

Her child, I would guess. Come to visit.

She brings her focus back to me, the sadness she carried moments ago replaced with pure maternal bliss as she shuffles forward on the couch. “It’s about time for bed, Doctor Mayet. And I’ve been summoned.” She grunts and huffs her way forward, twisting the phone until I glimpse a pair of men’s boots. But then she rights the screen again and fills it with her kind expression. “I’m not sure I’ve helped, but if nothing else, I hope I’ve put to rest your concerns about Andy.”

“Andy?” The newcomer’s voice is deep. A full-grown man’s question, wrapped in a small boy’s curiosity. “Andy’s here?”

“No, honey.” She stands, her blanket falling away, then murmurs something to her son. Comfort. Promise. A whispered, ‘I’m not mad at you, baby. Never ever.’ Finally, she brings her eyes back to me, though her skin burns redder from exertion. “He was a good man, Doctor. He deserves to rest in peace. I hope you’ll write that in your reports somewhere.”

“I will.”I mean, I probably won’t. But it’s important to her, so… “Thank you for your time, Gloria. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” She searches the phone, fumbling and blackening the screen. Then the call cuts out, and I’m thrust back to my office, still in the daylight, though it’s muted with dark clouds outside. I reach into my pocket for fresh tissues and bring my gaze up to find Archer’s staring observation, and over his left shoulder, Aubree’s chin in her hands.

“She really thinks Andy was a good person, huh?” Aubree contemplatively rolls her lip between her teeth. “She’s really firm about it.”

“Learning to be a better person and acting on that new wisdom isn’t unheard of.” Archer snatches up the note he slid my way, folds it a handful of times, and stands to shove it into his back pocket. “You’re fixated on this dude, but he’s dead, and he’s not coming back to take little girls. You need to let it go.”

“He’s in all the stories, though, isn’t he?” I blow my nose, the world’s ugliest, nastiest, most horrifyinghonkechoing throughout my office. “So gross,” I groan. “And it’s getting greener.”

“Because you’re sick.” Archer comes around the desk and slips his hand under my arm, gently tugging me up and holding on when my feet sting and my knees knock together. “You came to work, you told Emeri you were sorry.”

Across the room, Aubsawws.

“You saw the bones and conducted interviews. Now it’s time to go to bed.”

“The bones still need sorting.” I fight him. I swear I do. But I think most of the kicking and screaming I do is in my head, while in the real world, I stumble from my chair and lean against my husband because I can’t stand on my own. “I wanted to reassemble the skeleton.”

“You can. In a few days. Sleep now or you’ll get kidney disease and an extended stay in the hospital.”

“Ha-har.” I dig my hands into my pockets in search of more tissues. “She’s probably gonna die.”

“Sounds like.” He helps me navigate my desk and slow-marches me toward the coat rack at the door. Pulling the white one off, dragging it down my arms and grumbling because I clutch to a wad of tissues, which makes my fist almost too wide for the coat sleeves. “Being a single parent is pretty rough for most. But typically, that comes with an end date when the kids are grown and independent, right? Being a single parent to a kid who would never truly grow up and never be able to take care of himself…”

“Exhausting.”Me. Him. Her. “She won’t get a day off till she’s dead. And death is sneaking up kinda fast. Doesn’t sound fair.”

“Not everyone gets the happily ever after, I suppose.” Swapping my lab coat for the other, he grabs my hand when my brain doesn’tbrainfast enough and feeds it through a sleeve. Then he does the same on the other side, before shifting the material up to sit on my shoulders. “But then again,” he teases, kissing my cheek and ducking when I haphazardly attempt to push him away. “I’ve got me a fully grown child, too.”

I scowl and turn to glare. “I’m certain you’re talking about Cato.”

“Won’t feed herself,” he admonishes. “Never sleeps unless forced.Avoids water unless it’s mixed with caffeine. Rarely cooks a meal. Pouts a lot.”

“Jackass.” Offense makes my brain move a little faster, so I turn from his smug grin and bend to sweep up my bag. “I’m going home now. To medicate, like a grownup. Eat, like a grownup. I’ll sleep, like a grownup, and?—”

“Whine like a child.” He opens the door, while at his back, the elevator opens and Fletch steps out. “Aubree,” he murmurs playfully. “Do what you will with the skeleton, but save some of the fun parts for your chief.” Then he glances over his shoulder and stops on his partner. “You and Aubree get to spend a few hours separating human bones from those of a deer.”

“Oh, good.” He rubs his hands together and looks from Aubree to me, back to Archer. “Have we got a formal verdict that they belong to Danika?”

“No.” Grumbling—like a child—I hook my bag in the crook of my arm and set my hands on my hips. “We can assume, but we cannot declare. Don’t call her parents until I’ve kicked this damn plague out of my system and have had a chance to sign the piece of paper.”

---