Page 39 of The Last One You Loved
Her eyes narrowed as if she wasn’t sure she believed me.
“Really, I’m good. Thank you.”
She nodded. “Breakfast is at nine, but I’ll warn you in advance—the entire gang will be here helping out with day two of the big pie-baking adventure.”
She left, and I leaned on the door behind her, looking around the quiet space, heart hammering. My phone rang, and Sally’s smiling face lit up the screen. God, I missed her already.
“Hey,” I said as I answered.
“How’s Tennessee?” she asked.
I lay down on the couch and spent the next half an hour explaining everything that had happened, only leaving out the threats from Dr. Gregory.
“Wow,” Sally said. “When your life blows up, it really blows up.”
I sighed, clutching a throw pillow to my chest. “Yep.”
She was quiet for a moment before saying, “It’s pretty amazing, though.”
“What?” I scoffed.
“He took in your baby sister…made her his. He must have been, what, twenty-three or twenty-four? That isn’t something small, McK. That’s huge. He became a single dad just to raise her. I don’t know many people who would take on that kind of responsibility at any age, let alone such a young one.”
It twisted my heart, taking my anger and making it shrivel up to an almost nonexistent, coin-sized ball. Why had he done it? Maddox had to have been only a year or two out of college when he’d taken Mila in. I would have been in medical school, and my hours of class, studying, and work would have been off the charts. I couldn’t even imagine what it would have been like to have been handed a one-year-old to care for. Maddox was right. I would have had to give up my dreams.
But they were dreams I was losing anyway. My medical career was over. Dr. Gregory would make sure of it.
“I should have had a say in it,” I said softly.
“You’re not wrong,” she said.
“But I’m not right either?” I asked.
“I don’t have a clue. I don’t think you will either until you talk to him.”
I wasn’t sure I could handle talking to him again. Every time I’d seen him, I’d been assaulted with memories. Beautiful ones as well as painful ones. My insides were bruised, as if I’d been pummeled with a thousand clubs on tender organs that never saw the light of day.
“How’s your dad?” I asked, changing the conversation.
She didn’t try to stop me from switching gears, knowing I wouldn’t come to any decisions without hours of quiet contemplation. We talked instead about her dad, their family in Avalyn Beach, and the stunning glass creations he made.
“You’re always welcome here,” Sally said softly. “If it gets to be too much, hop a plane, and come to us.”
“I’m surprised the hospital let you off over the holiday week. We’re always short-staffed.”
She was quiet again, and something in the silence twisted my gut.
“Sal?”
“Well…about that… I quit.”
“What?!” I sat up.
“Before you get your panties all bunched up, it wasn’t just because of you. I mean, that’s why I took a vacation to start with, because people were being utter assholes, and it would absolutely have sucked to go back. Because no matter what happens with the investigation, there will always be people who’ll take his side, and I couldn’t stand there and listen to their smack day in and day out. But that isn’t what really pushed me to quit. When I got here, Dad didn’t even remember me telling him I was coming, even though it had only been hours. And his bills hadn’t been paid, even though he’d said he’d done it. I need to be here for him just like he was always there for me.”
I hated that my first thought was about what this meant for me. Another loss. Another person I wouldn’t have. I wasn’t sure how many hits I could take in a row before I collapsed. But I knew this was the right thing for Sally and her dad. They’d been a team her whole life. She wouldn’t want to be anywhere but with him when he needed her.
I also realized she was right about the hospital. Even if, by some miracle, everything went my way, my CPS report was proven right, and the hospital took me back, there’d be staff who would never believe me. They’d simply be pissed I’d ruined a family and a career.
