Page 65 of Dream with Me

“Rude.” Lincoln grabs Mr. Turtle and heads toward the door. I follow and when we get there, he turns. Before he can do or say anything, I wrap my arms around him in a big hug.

“Thanks, Lincoln,” I whisper.

He squeezes me back for a second, then pulls away. “Text me when you’re there safely. And Shan?” His voice is hushed on his last few words.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for going. Take care of him, okay?”

I smile sadly at him. “I’m going to try. I promise.”

CHAPTER35

SHANNON

Three and a half hours and four traffic-halting car accidents later, I’m pulling into a parking space at the hospital where Lincoln said I’d find Troy. My nerves are frayed like the end of an old rope from the harrowing trip here. I guess the weather forecasters weren’t wrong about a snowstorm hitting our part of the country.

Now that I’m here, I’m torn between wanting to run inside and make sure Troy is okay and wanting to hide out in my car for a bit longer because a thought occurred to me about ten minutes ago that I don’t like. What if Troy did bring the woman with him, and he didn’t tell Lincoln? Lincoln is married to my sister, after all, and maybe Troy didn’t want her to find out the details yet and risk them getting back to me.

“Stop it. This isn’t about you,” I tell myself. “This is about supporting Troy.”

It’s true. Plus, If I get in there and he’s not alone, then I can politely excuse myself and find somewhere to stay until the snow settles enough to drive home. As long as he has support, it doesn’t matter whether it’s me or not.

Yes, it does!

Four minutes later, after I trudge through at least eight inches of snow, Ifinallystep inside the main hospital reception lobby. My toes are wet and cold, and my thighs are burning from the unanticipated workout they got dragging me from my car to the door. But I’m here.

I take a deep breath—appreciating the smell of the freshly roasted coffee coming from the small coffee kiosk nearby—let it out, then approach the reception desk.

An older woman smiles up at me, “Oh, my. Not seeing many visitors braving this weather. I’m glad you’re here safe. How may I help you?”

“I-I’m looking for what unit and room Doug Willson is on, please.”

“Sure thing, dear. Give me one moment.”

She clicks away at her computer keyboard, then stops, writes a room number on a small piece of paper labeled “visitor pass,” and hands it to me. She kindly points me in the direction of the elevators.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

I follow her directions and am about to approach the coffee kiosk—where I’m definitely stopping since there’s no line—when awareness comes over me.

“Shannon?” There’s surprise, shock almost, in the voice, and I turn toward it.

Troy is standing with his hands on the bistro-style table tucked intimately into a small alcove. His eyes are wide, questioning. There’s only one cup of coffee on the table, which relieves me. What worries me is the shredded cardboard sleeve that covers the table. Actually, it looks like the remnants of two sleeves, which tells me he’s been sitting here a while.

“Hi,” I whisper. I take a few steps toward him, and about four feet away, I stop. What if he doesn’t want me here?

“W-what are you... How are you here? How did you even know I was here?”

I bite my lower lip for a second. “Don’t be mad at him, but I bullied Lincoln into telling me where you were.”

Anger flashes over his face, his features tightening.

“I’m gonna kill him. You shouldn’t be driving in this. W-What if you got hurt?”

“You shouldn’t be here alone, Troy.” I set my bag on the table. “I’m gonna grab a coffee. Do you want another?” My voice sounds more confident and in control than I feel, as my insides are a shaky mess right now.

He nods, sits down with his elbows on the table, and drops his head into his hands for support.

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