Page 27 of The Breaking Point

“Where’s your brother?”

“In there,” he says nodding toward the waiting room.

I step in and there they are. My mother, sitting stiff and small in the corner chair, wringing a tissue into shreds. Alex, standing by the window, arms crossed, trying to look calm and failing miserably. The room smells like old coffee and lemon disinfectant.

My mother looks up, her eyes red-rimmed and tired. “You came.”

“Of course I came.”

I go to Alex first, hugging him despite his objections then I move to crouch beside her chair. She touches my cheek like she can’t quite believe I’m real. Her hand is cold.

“How is he really?” I ask.

“They said the blockage was bad but they got to it in time. He’s in the ICU. They won’t let anyone in yet.”

I nod. My throat feels too tight to speak.

Alex finally speaks. “You guys got here fast.”

“Yeah,” I say. “We were already on our way. Your aunt Quinn needed us.”

He nods slowly but there’s something in his eyes. Suspicion maybe. Or just exhaustion.

Aiden hangs back by the door. This is what I'm talking about, even when he’s here, he’s notreallyhere.

I take the seat across from my mom. Jack sits beside me, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Alex wanders over to sit on my other side and we just… wait.

The doctor makes his rounds three hours later. We’re all half-asleep in the waiting room when he walks in, clipboard in hand, and tells us they’ll be keeping Dad in the ICU overnight. He’s stable, doing well, and the overnight stay is standard given his age and the severity of the blockage.

“He’s okay,” the doctor assures us. “You can come back in the morning. He’ll likely be moved to a regular room by then.”

My mom nods, polite but firm. “I’ll stay.”

“Mom…” I start, but she cuts me off with a look.

“You’ve come a long way. The boys need sleep. Take them home.”

I can’t argue with her. None of us can. She’s made up her mind and there’s no changing it now.

We say our goodbyes and head out. The hospital parking lot feels quieter than when we arrived. Jack’s dragging his feet and Alex looks hollow.

It’s well past midnight by the time we pull into our driveway. The porch light clicks on automatically. Jack offers to help with the bags, but Aiden looks at him like a deer caught in headlights.

I cut in quickly. “We dropped everything at Quinn’s.”

That seems to satisfy Jack, who shrugs and heads inside. Alex follows him without a word.

As the door swings shut behind them, I turn to Aiden.

“I thought you were good at lying,” I mutter under my breath before walking in myself.

Our house is my grandmother’s, the one I grew up in. We built an addition years ago when the boys got older, four bedrooms now. Two more than when it was just me and Grandma.

But here’s the conundrum.

I can’t exactly kick him out of our bedroom. My parents are staying in the guest room. The boys are already in theirs. And we never did put a sofa in the master.

Great. I get to share a bed with my lying husband. I head upstairs without a word, already hating every second of it.

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