Page 35 of Wicked Love
We would make this work. With Logan and Beckett finally allied, there was nothing that could come between us and the truth.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Madelyn
“Everything is healing well, Lindsay,” the doctor said with an approving smile. “You’ve obviously been looking after yourself and keeping up with your physio.”
Relief rushed through me. Mom kept her expression calm as she smiled back, but she squeezed my hand a little tighter where I’d grabbed hers while we waited for the doctor’s assessment.
We both knew how bad her injuries from the car accident had been. She’d needed emergency surgery and been kept under observation for days. But now that she’d been home for a little while and was gradually getting back into her usual routines, it seemed she was recovering quickly. She had to be at least as reassured by that as I was.
“I’ve been doing my best not to be impatient about getting back to normal,” she said with a light laugh.
The doctor nodded as he closed Mom’s file. “Remember, strive for anewnormal. Some of those injuries will likely be finicky for years to come. You want to continue being patient with yourself, and recognize that sometimes you may need to adapt rather than push through. There’s no shame in that. But I think you’ll get awfully close to that old normal eventually, if not all the way there.”
“Of course. I’ll keep that in mind.”
He said his good-byes and left the exam room, and Mom sighed before getting to her feet and grasping her purse strap. The dejected sound made me leap up. “Are you okay?”
She swatted at me. “Yes. You heard the man! I just wish I healed as fast as a person half my age still.”
“It hasn’t been very long.”
“No, not at all.” She bumped her shoulder against mine affectionately. “You know, honey, you really didn’t need to come. I’m used to attending appointments by myself.”
“Not appointments like this,” I said. “I’m glad I could be here when Holand couldn’t this time. And before you say anything about concentrating on my schoolwork, it’ll be easier for me to concentrate now that I’ve heard for myself that you’re doing well.”
Mom let out a teasing huff. “You know, usually it’s mothers who attend doctor’s appointments with their children, not the other way around.” She paused as she slung her purse over her shoulder and gave me a more penetrating look. “You don’t talk to me about school all that much anymore. You used to tell me about interesting lectures and projects you were working on all the time.”
I feigned a laugh of my own. I hadn’t had much to report because my mind had been so wrapped up in other things, and I’d been afraid that if I tried to fake enthusiasm where my heart wasn’t in it, Mom would sense that something was wrong. It seemed like saying less might have given her that impression anyway.
We headed out the door and down the hall past bustling nurses and the beeping of machines from open doorways. “Oh, well, it’s getting down to crunch time,” I said. “My first semester at the new college, and final exams are looming. It’s less exciting when you’re scrambling to make sure you’re stuffing your head full of every possible fact.”
And worrying about your dad’s murderer who nearly murdered your mom too, I didn’t say.
Mom knit her brow. “Is that how you feel—like you’re scrambling to keep up? I’ve never heard you talk about college that way before. You always seemed energized by the work rather than stressed.”
“Oh, no, it’s not that bad,” I said, scrambling now to cover up the way I’d misspoken. I couldn’t seem to remove my foot from my mouth with her today. “I’m exaggerating. But I am really busy, in a good way. You don’t need to worry, I promise.”
She patted my shoulder. “I want to make sure you’re okay, just like you do with me.” She peered at me again in a way that sent an apprehensive prickle over my skin. “You know that if you ever start to feel too stressed or uncertain about anything—school or otherwise—you can always talk do me, don’t you? I’m here for you no matter what. Iwantto be here for you.”
My stomach knotted. Where was this pep talk coming from? Had I been that bad at hiding all the stress that really was weighing on me?
I couldn’t tell her the truth. Not when I had no proof yet. Not when the people I was trying to bring to justice had already left her with these injuries she might never fully recover from. She needed to stay as much out of this mess as I could keep her until it was all over.
“I promise that I’ll come to you if I need your help. Pinky promise.” I offered her a pinky.
A chuckle tumbled out of her as she grabbed my pinky and shook it.
“You never broke a pinky promise when you were little,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I expect the same now.”
I gasped and placed my hand over my chest as if her words wounded me. “Have some trust. A pinky promise is permanent.”
But I’d only promised to go to her if I neededherhelp, and this situation wasn’t anything she could help with anyway.
Mom grinned, looking as if her momentary bout of worry had faded away. Which was good, because I had a trick to pull before we left the hospital, and the front doors were fast approaching.
We were just a few steps away when I stopped in my tracks and patted my pockets. “Shoot,” I muttered, making sure to look at Mom and feel my pockets a second time as if double-checking. “I took my phone out back in the room to make some notes—I think I must have set it down and forgotten it. I’d better go grab it before someone else finds it. You go ahead. I’ll meet you in the car in a minute.”
