Page 5 of Strangers in Love

She gave a non-committal shrug I knew all too well. That was her ‘well, if you insist, there’s nothing I can do to force you, but you’re making a mistake’ shrug.

Except, it didn’t look quite right. She looked…stiff. I frowned and looked at her more closely. She had a pinched look around her mouth and eyes. She wasn’t one to tan any more than I was, but she looked pale rather than fair.

“Are you okay?” I asked, reaching out to put a hand on her arm.

Something moved across her face, something I couldn’t read, and that made my concern turn into anxiety. I knew her. If I couldn’t tell what was wrong, how bad did it have to be?

“I Hope You Dance” interrupted the conversation before it could begin. Mom’s ringtone, which meant Freedom had to answer it or Mom would call me next. She knew we were together, but she always reached out to Freedom first.

“Hey, M–” Freedom went extremely still, as if the life had drained out of her all at once. “We’re on our way.”

My stomach dropped. Something was wrong, and it wasn’t what I’d just been asking her about.

“Dad had a heart attack,” Freedom said. She turned and started back toward the car, walking fast enough that I had to practically jog to catch up. “They’re at the hospital. We need to go home.”

She was right. Everything else could wait. We were needed back in L.A.

Four

Aline

Freedom drovethe entire distance from Stanford to Los Angeles. Normally, it was five-and-a-half hours driving and at least a half-hour for stops. Traffic and construction generally made it into at least seven hours, if not more, especially if we were going into the city. Then, since it was spring break, more cops were out than normal. All of this meant Freedom couldn’t go quite as fast as I knew she wanted, but she still managed to get us to the hospital before midnight.

We didn’t talk much on the drive, but there wasn’t really anything to say. I’d sent a text to Mom to let her know that we were on the road because I hadn’t wanted to bother her with a call, not knowing where things were at with Dad. She’d sent back a thumbs up to let me know she’d gotten it, but that’d been it. As we pulled into the hospital parking lot, we didn’t know any more than we had when we’d left.

Freedom’s expression was pinched, tight, and I knew I didn’t look much different as we walked into the ER. We’d come directly from the garden, so we were both wearing the same casual sundresses, but they definitely didn’t fit in here as well as they had in the garden. Then again, I thought as I took in the other people in the waiting room, people didn’t usually dress with the expectation of going to the ER. Maybe we weren’t as out of place here as I’d thought. All of us were somewhere we hadn’t expected when we’d gotten up that morning.

“Our father was brought in earlier today with a heart attack,” Freedom said to the woman behind the front counter. “Gerard Mercier.”

The woman’s eyes slid from Freedom to me and back again before focusing on the computer screen in front of her. Freedom’s perfectly manicured nails made clicking sounds as she tapped on the counter, the only outward sign that she was as worried as I was. I kept telling myself that Mom would’ve called or at least texted if the worst had happened, but I couldn’t bring myself to actually say it out loud. I didn’t want to give voice to hope, only to be wrong. Not about something this important.

“I’m going to need to see some ID before I can give you any information about Mr. Mercier.” She gave us an apologetic smile. “I hate to ask, but anyone can come in here and say they’re his daughters.”

She was right, and I knew Freedom appreciated the security, even if it was a pain in the ass right now. Our parents weren’t celebrities, exactly, but enough people knew who they were that if someone smelled a story, things could get annoying at the very least, especially if it was a slow news day.

We both dug out our licenses and held them out for her to see. Granted, for all she knew, we just had the same last name or had gotten some fake IDs, but our parents weren’tthatfamous.

“Room 418,” she said as she handed the IDs back to us. “Elevator is back that way.” She pointed.

“Thank you.” Freedom’s voice was even and cool, as if she was simply grateful for directions to the restroom or gift shop.

We walked to the elevators and took them up to the fourth floor. Her fingers tapped against her leg the entire way, but otherwise, she was completely still. I didn’t have that same level of self-possession. I shifted from one foot to the other, twisted my hair, tapped my toes. In the car, I’d been able to do all a little more subtly so as to not annoy my sister, but Freedom didn’t seem to notice it right now.

I’d never seen her wound so tight.

Then again, our father had never had a heart attack before either.

The room was a private one, which didn’t surprise me. Dad had donated a lot to most of the hospitals in Los Angeles. Not to receive special treatment, but there were times it was nice to have a few extra perks. Like being able to walk into a room when it was past visiting hours and not worry about anyone kicking us out or us bothering a roommate.

The moment we stepped inside, Mom let out a soft cry and jumped out of her chair, practically running into Freedom’s arms. Despite the five inches she had on Freedom, Mom looked small in my sister’s arms. She was only sixty-four, and despite the fact that her hair was snow white, she’d always seemed ageless to me. Now, as she turned her face toward me, she looked…old.

“Hey, Mom.” I moved forward to hug her, and she felt as frail as she seemed.

I kept my hand on her back as she let me go, for some reason suddenly sure that she wasn’t going to be steady on her feet. I kept my eyes on her even as Freedom stepped past me to go to the bed. The bed I’d avoided looking at so far and the bed I needed to follow her to.

“He’s stable,” Mom said, her voice quiet but steady. “Sleeping.”

“How bad…” I swallowed hard. “How bad is it?”

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