Page 21 of Playing the Game
“Yeah. So do I. But why?”
He leads us away from the waiting room. “If it’s our mother, do you think the bullets were meant for Dori?”
My neck tightens. “Possibly, but why would our mother go after her?”
“Maybe you pissed her off.”
“I know I did that. But why come for Dorothy when it’s me who she’s upset with?”
“Because Dori’s your Achilles’ heel. If she hurts Dori, you’ll cave to her requests.”
Jonah’s right. Mommy Dearest has me at her mercy. All that I can do is wait and see what she’s going to require of me in order to keep Dorothy safe.
I can only hope it’s something I’m capable of doing, but I have a sick feeling my mother’s demand will be something I’ll have a terrible time fulfilling.
Convincing Dorothy to leave the hospital is brutal. It takes three hours. And in the end, she only leaves with me because Melanie tells her she’s starting to smell like rotten blood.
Dorothy’s still gripping Jamison’s belongings in her arms like they’re a precious child as we step outside the hospital doors.
I guide her out to my car. “Come on, beauty. Let’s get you home, and I’ll run you a hot bath.”
She glances over her shoulder and hesitates. “Maybe I should stay. I’m sure they’d let me shower here somewhere.”
“Remember what Melanie said. The nurses will contact you if there’s any change in Jamison’s condition.” I nudge Dorothy along. “Let me help and take care of you until they call.”
She peers up at me and reluctantly allows me to lead her into the car. We head for home, but she won’t speak and continually looks out the back window toward the hospital for the entire trip.
I’ve never seen anyone in her state before. It’s clear she’s in shock from the traumatic event she witnessed. That, and she’s worried sick about Jamison. I can’t say that I blame her.
We get back to my place, and I offer to run her a bath, but she opts for a shower. She’s been in there for twenty minutes, hiding her cries under the showerhead.
My nerves are standing at attention. I keep waiting for her to tell me she can’t stay here, but she hasn’t. Not yet, anyway. The hole in my heart tells me it’s bound to happen, so I know I’m on borrowed time.
Before getting in to bathe, she asked me how I was holding up regarding Isabella. When I told her I didn’t want to focus on that, she looked at me like a lost child.
In every situation I’m dealing with, I feel out of control and helpless. It’s uncharted territory, and I’m not sure how to handle it.
I pull on some sweatpants and toss my dirty clothes in the laundry room. I close the door and glance up. She peeks her head around the bathroom wall and finds me in the hallway.
I show her a warm smile. “How was your shower?”
“Fine. Melanie was right. I smelled awful.” She towel dries her hair.
“Well, in that case, let’s get you to bed. You could use the sleep.” I meet her at her side and kiss her cheek.
She ambles to the bed and sits. “I don’t think I’ll be able to.”
I take her in with a careful eye. This is when I think she’s going to tell me she made a mistake and she can’t be with me after all, but she remains silent, staring off at nothing.
“Beauty, is there anything I can do to help?”
Her empty gaze connects with my apprehensive one. “Just talk to me for a little while. I have all these thoughts in my head. If I could clear them out and make sense of them, maybe…”
“Let me dry your hair first. Then we can cuddle up, and you can share anything that’s on your mind.”
She disappears from the room to get her hairdryer, and when she comes back, I proceed to take care of her. It’s these little moments that mean the world to me—mundane tasks that I used to take for granted.
It’s well past one in the morning. I’m exhausted from a week away, but I’ll stay up as long as she needs me.
