Page 83 of Deal Breaker
“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t release any information unless you are immediate family.”
Of course. Red tape. I grit my teeth and take a step back, trying to reel in my frustration. I’m about to pull out my phone again and try Landyn one more time when I spot a familiar face near the exit of the ER.
He’s older now—grayer at the temples and a little broader—but I’d recognize Landyn’s dad anywhere. And he’s not alone.
He’s holding the hand of a little girl with long, dark-blonde curls. She’s clutching a juice box, her eyes darting around the hospital, curious and wide. Something tugs low in my gut.
Landyn’s dad looks up and meets my gaze. He slows, clearly recognizing me. There’s a beat—just one—before he angles toward me, his hand still firmly holding the little girl’s.
“Ford,” he says as he approaches.
I nod. “Hey, Mr. Sinclair.”
“It’s been a long time,” he says, glancing down at the little girl, then back up at me. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I heard about Carolyn. I—I couldn’t get a hold of Landyn. I was worried.”
His mouth presses into a line. He studies me for a moment, eyes narrowing like he’s weighing something.
“She’s inside. With her mom.”
I nod. It seems like he’s about to say more, but instead he clears his throat, looks away. There is an odd energy between us, like I’m not quite getting the whole picture and he’s not quite willing to fill it in for me.
I glance down again at the little girl as the silence stretches on. She looks up at me, eyes big and startlinglyfamiliar. Something stirs in my chest. A question I don’t voice.
“I’ll let Landyn know you’re here,” Mr. Sinclair saying finally. “She will probably want to see you,” He gives my shoulder a firm pat and then turns and heads toward the ER doors, the little girl skipping beside him.
And I’m left standing there, heart thudding, wondering why I suddenly feel like the ground just shifted beneath me.
THIRTY
Landyn
The steady beep of the monitor beside my mom’s head is strangely soothing now. It’s been hours, but the panic I walked into this hospital with has dulled to a manageable level. She’s stable and awake. Chatting and giving me a hard time already.
“You should have seen the nurse trying to decipher your handwriting on the intake forms,” she says with a teasing smile, her voice hoarse. “I thought she was going to prescribe you a penmanship class.”
I roll my eyes, adjusting the blanket around her legs. “I was worried about you, Mom. I was writing in a hurry.”
Well, next time maybe Poppy can fill out the forms,” she says with a wink.
“Don’t talk about next time,” I say, tears pricking at my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today. My mom in a hospital bed is something I can’t get used to. No matter how good her spirits are. No matter how many tests they said they are going to run. I wish they could tell us what is wrong with her. I wish she didn’t have to be here at all.
A soft knock sounds at the door, and my dad steps in holding Poppy’s hand.
“That was fast,” I say turning to face them. “I thought you two were going to get a snack.”
My dad immediately sets Poppy in the chair at the end of the bed and hands her the iPad I luckily thought to bring with me as I rushed out the door. He helps her with her headphones, then catches my eye and exhales. “We didn’t make it to the cafeteria,” he says quietly. “Ran into someone on the way.”
I furrow my brow. “Who?”
He shifts slightly. “Ford.”
My heart jerks in my chest. “Ford is here?”
“He came looking for you. Said he’d been trying to get in touch.”
I glance toward Poppy instinctively, nerves spiralling through me. My dad’s voice softens. “He didn’t ask any questions,” he reassures me. “But he did look worried, sweetheart.”
