Page 127 of Broken Daddy
“I get that. But that doesn’t mean that he won’t want to know. That he doesn’t need to know.”
That was true.
“He’s only supposed to call me at certain times. I don’t think I’m allowed to call him.”
“I’ll talk to Gwen and get it set up.”
“All right,” she said sleepily.
Thinking was too tiring. Instead, she might sleep.
Yes, sleep sounded good.
27
Hayes looked up at the knock on the door. It opened and Mac poked his head in. Hayes held a finger up to his lips, not wanting him to wake her.
Mac nodded and crooked a finger at him.
Hayes wanted to refuse. He needed to stay here with Devi. He couldn’t leave her.
However, Mac was a good person who’d done his best to look after Devi. So he reluctantly got up and moved over to the door. He stepped out.
“What is it, Mac? I can’t leave her. She’s in a delicate state and it’s not safe for her to be alone.”
“Delicate state?” Mac asked in clear alarm. “Is there something I need to know?”
“Not at the moment. She’s just not herself and I don’t want to leave her.”
“Well, she’s asleep right now.”
“That doesn’t mean that she won’t wake up at any moment.”
“That’s why Silla is going to sit with her.” Mac waved at Silla who was rushing toward them holding a pink teddy bear that was half as tall as she was and a helium balloon that said ‘Happy 21st.’
That was . . . odd.
But then that was a word he often thought around Devi’s friends. The balloon had a long string and kept whacking into things.
A doctor stepped out of a room and the balloon smacked right onto his face.
“What on earth is going on?” the doctor demanded.
“Oops, sorry!” Silla said, pulling on the string of the balloon. “It’s got a life of its own.”
“Is it someone’s twenty-first birthday?” the doctor asked.
“No.” Silla continued on her way to them. She stopped in front of them, clearly breathless. “Sorry, I’m late. When I opened the car door, my balloon tried to escape. Thankfully, I managed to grab it. I don’t know why that doctor asked me if it was someone’s twenty-first birthday. Do I look like I’m going to a twenty-first birthday?” she demanded.
“Um, Silla. What does your balloon say?” Mac asked.
“It says happy twenty-first. Ohh. Now it all makes sense. Drat. I was rude. I should go apologize.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Mac told her.
Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
In the end he couldn’t stop himself, though.
