Page 71 of Tempting the Heart

“He’ll be fine in the house,” my mom snapped.

The surgeon eyed me. “I was under the impression the home had some potential fall hazards.”

My mom’s jaw ground together. “Who told you that?”

“It was written in the notes from the medics.”

“I’ve been trying to get things emptied out of their home and repairs made, but it hasn’t been easy.” I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a deep breath. “This was exactly what I was worried about.”

“You worry too much.” My mom scowled.

“Apparently not.”

“I’ll have a social worker come by when Mr. Grant gets into his room. She can discuss options and potential living arrangements.” The surgeon held my gaze, and I nodded. “It’s Marigold Island, right?”

“That’s where my parents have a home. Yes.”

“And that is where we’re going back to.” My mom nearly snarled at the surgeon who’d just worked on her husband.

The surgeon nodded. “I’ll have the social worker meet with you.”

“Thank you so much,” I told him. “I’m really sorry about everything.”

“I’m sure it’s a lot to take in for her,” he assured me, tapping my arm. “The nurse will tell you what room he’ll be in shortly.”

“Thanks.” To say I was embarrassed for the behavior that just happened was putting it mildly. In all my time growing up with my parents, I had never gotten used to it. I almost preferred when they’d take it out on me rather than strangers, but their fury knew no boundaries.

The surgeon walked out of the waiting room, and my mom sat down with a thud.

“Give me a drink, will ya? There’s a vending machine out in the hall.”

“Gladly,” I told her, grateful for the break.

The tension in that room put every cell in my body on edge. It was the very reason Paul and I left the moment we could.

I scanned the machine and found her favorite lemon-lime soda. I got her a bag of potato chips and returned with both.

“I hope you don’t get any crazy ideas, thinking you can rip us from our home.”

Shaking my head, I just let out a sigh. “I haven’t said a word. I didn’t even know that was a thing. I just listened to what the doctor told us both, and I’ll wait to hear what the social worker says. I’m sure whatever they’re thinking is only temporary.”

She scowled.

“I don’t care what any of them say. I’m not leaving.” She ripped open the bag of chips and started crunching. Normally, the sound would have gone right over me, but today, every chomp and slap of the lips grated on me. “And neither is your father.”

I returned to the hallway and grabbed a coffee as the nurse entered the waiting room. I quickly followed her in. She gaveus the room number where my dad was located, and we trailed behind her down the hall and into an elevator before finding my dad in a room with the drapes closed.

He looked as grumpy as ever sleeping, but he had a gauze dressing along his scalp, tubes coming out of his hip area, and IVs hooked up to various solutions dangling behind.

I’d imagine it wasn’t anyone’s best look.

My mom didn’t stop to touch him, but she sat in the chair next to the hospital bed. The nurse checked a couple of things while I stood near the window.

“Open the drapes, will ya? It’s like a cave in here,” my mom said, eyeing me.

“Maybe it’s better closed for Dad since he’s sleeping?”

“He’ll be fine.”

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