Page 19 of The Hometown Dilemma
Mom turned to me, her eyes glittering with tears. “We went to see the doctor yesterday for your dad’s six-month checkup. They’re concerned about his heart and have increased his medication. He’s been told to take it easy, even more than he has been.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I frowned. Dad’s health hadn’t been great for a while, but I hadn’t realized how much it had deteriorated, or how quickly. No wonder he hadn’t been up for an argument about sports licenses for the bar.
“He didn’t want to. He doesn’t want to worry you. We both know how much of a struggle it is with the bar at the moment. You didn’t need anything else on top of it.”
I crossed the kitchen in a couple of strides and gathered her in for a hug. “I don’t care how busy you think I am, you should never keep something like that from me.”
Mom sagged against my chest. “I wanted to tell you, I really did, but Lloyd’s a stubborn ass sometimes.” She glanced up at me, a twinkle in her eye. “Must be where you get it from.”
In spite of the situation, I smiled. “Is there anything else I can do? Can I do more around here?”
She shook her head. “No. You concentrate on the bar. Hopefully the changes will make a difference.”
I hoped so too.
* * *
Later that day,I met up with Austen at the gym. With everything that had happened, I needed to let off some steam.
“How’s your day been?” he asked, pulling on a head protector.
I’d decided to start with the punching bag; the desire to hit something intensified and even if my best friend got hit in the crossfire, it would certainly help me feel better.
“Pretty shit actually. Found out my dad is much sicker than he’d told me.”
“Wow. Sorry, man.” Austen grabbed the bag and held it tight, bracing himself for the first hit.
I launched an upper cut to the bag, feeling the vibrations pound up my arm, then followed it up with another, getting into a rhythm. Volley after volley of punches went down and the stress of the day started to melt away.
“Hey, buddy, you wanna take a break? You’re going to kill me otherwise.” Austen pulled the bag out of my way, and I stumbled forward.
Straightening up, I blew out a breath, rolling my head around and listening to the crack in my neck.
“Sorry, I needed that.”
He swung the bag in my direction. “My turn.”
I caught it and hugged it close to my chest, wanting to feel his blows, wanting to forget all the other pain. “Tell me about your day. I could do with living vicariously through you.”
Austen threw a couple less than intense punches at the bag. “Jaime came to see me at the office.” He grinned.
My mood, already pretty low, took a further nosedive at the news. No wonder Jaime hasn’t bothered replying to my message. She had to be interested in Austen.
“Oh.” I tried to disguise my disappointment.
“She showed me her ideas for Moira Channing’s staging, and I have to say, she blew me away.”
Ha, Jaime could do that easily, with or without her design portfolio.
“Shame Channing’s not gotten back to me yet with what she wants to do. I have a horrible feeling she’s going to change her mind.” His latest attempt at the punching bag took me slightly off guard and I stumbled backwards. “Which means I won’t be able to work with Jaime. Although every cloud…”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if I don’t have to keep my relationship with her on a professional footing, I can ask her out. She seemed pretty keen yesterday when we were at the bar.”
Pretending I hadn’t even noticed, I shook my head. “Really?”
“Yeah, I don’t think she’s seeing anyone, so I think I’m going to ask her out on a date.”
