Perhaps Dutch and Cadey are finally having a baby?
I know Cadey fears not being able to get pregnant. I doubt Dutch still cares about having a baby for his inheritance, but I also doubt that he can get Cadey to stop obsessing over it.
“Humph.” The rag gains in speed and roughness as mom continues to wipe me down.
I flinch but, this time, I don’t protest. Mom might snap me with the rag if I say a word to her right now.
She’s been in a funk ever since the day of the accident.
Actually, mom was angry before then.
I know the exact moment it happened. It was the day she saw me and Zane together and figured out that we were… that we had…something. Immediately, mom’s dream of having a big, happy family imploded.
She became a different person overnight.
Before, she used to fuss over her ‘new sons’, desperate to have them around. Now, she’ll brutally list all their faults and never forgets to remind me that I should stay away from them.
Zane was the first person mom chased out of my hospital room when she arrived after my accident. Dutch and Cadey kept trying to visit while mom was out and, when she caught them, she flipped her lid, screaming about how no one respects her.
The meltdown spiked her blood pressure and landed her in the hospital room right beside mine. I asked the guys to keep their distance so, for the past couple days, they’ve been abiding by those boundaries.
But mom is still on edge and I think they know it.
After all the drama that went down, I doubt they’d come back.
Especially not Zane.
I hope he’ll take mom’s opposition as the final nail in the coffin that is ‘us’.
Whatever ‘us’ there was in the first place.
Marry me. The memory pops into my head unprompted.
I dig my fingers into the blanket and squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the image of Zane’s pleading blue eyes and deep voice out of my head.
“Did I hurt you?” mom cries. “Did I go too close to the stitches?”
I lift a finger to the jagged line tracing along my temple and disappearing into my curly hair. The stitches are almost healed but they’re still lumpy.
“I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile.
Mom’s bottom lip wobbles. “I can’t believe someone was drunk driving so early in the day. What has our society come to?”
“Yeah,” I nervously agree, gaze darting down.
Mom is already so stressed about me and Zane—not that thereisa me and Zane. I didn’t want to tell her that last week was not the first attempt on my life.
“I should give the police another call.”
“Mom, I’m thirsty. Do you mind getting me coffee from the vending machine?”
She tuts at me. “You can’t drink coffee with your meds. You know that.”
“Something sweet then. Please.”
“I’ll see if I can find a bottle of natural orange juice. I’ll be right back.” She hurries out of the room.
I exhale shakily and pat my chest, trying to loosen the knot that gets tighter every time she mentions the accident.