Page 36 of The Tomboy and the Captain

“I’m going to be on the bus when they discharge you probably, so I expect you’ll at least text me updates. I mean, how am I going to know who killed that blonde lady they keep showing those pictures of on the screen if you don’t?” I gesture to the TV and my mom smirks.

“Neither of us will find out if you don’t let me turn the volume back on.” She quirks a brow and I chuckle, shaking my head.

“Go ahead. I’ll stick around for the end,” I say, turning my chair and pushing it right up next to the bed so I can sit with her and watch a seventeen-year-old murder case come down to a fingerprint on a jar of peanut butter.

I missed my marketing class,but my professor knows about my situation, so I sent him a text from my Jeep after sticking around long enough to talk to my mom’s oncologist. The fact that he didn’t seem worried definitely helped me take my anxiety down a notch or two. And over-caution is better than being reckless, so I’m glad she’s here, even for just a cold.

I call Flynn during my drive home to update him and Todd, and they promise to fill in our older brothers so I don’t have to. I may be the one here and doing the hands-on caretaking, but my brothers are very much locked in with everything that happens. We all share with each other, something mom hasn’t seemed to find a way around for, well, I guess twenty-eight years since that’s how old Andrew is. I’m pretty sure when he was born, Patrick invested the brother code with him, and the two of them simply passed it on with each McCreary.

By the time I pull up to the house, it’s late afternoon and my stomach is growling. Ivy’s truck is in the driveway and the garage is shut, which I think means Matt’s car is probably tucked inside. I’m not really in the mood for a full house, but I’m also kind of glad that it’s not just going to be me and Laney alone right away. I don’t really feel like talking about my day. I’d rather blend in and simply pick up on what the rest of the housemates are doing.

When I walk into the house, I’m hit with some serious grilled onion aroma. My mouth waters so much that I’m practically drooling, so I follow the scent to the kitchen where Laney is working a skillet on the stove while Ivy sits across from her on one of the stools.

“What’s cooking?” I take the other stool and twist to look for Matt. I find him wearing some headset game that has him karate chopping around the living room. When my gaze meets Ivy’s she rolls her eyes and shrugs about her brother.

“He’s ridiculous,” she explains. “And homemade pasta and sauce. Laney’s brilliant in the kitchen. Five bucks if you want in.” She holds out a palm, and I immediately glance at Laney as if she’ll tell me if her friend is taking me for a ride or not.

“Pay up buddy,” Laney says. “When we make meals for everyone, we all chip in. I’ve been coming over here to eat for a year. That’s the rule.”

I look back to Ivy, whose open palm is still waiting.

“Okay, I’m in.” I fish out my wallet and stretch it open in hopes of a stray five. I rarely have cash, though, and all I have in there now is an old dime I think is probably stuck to the lining with syrup and the receipt for the pizza and beer Laney and I picked up last night.

“We accept Venmo,” Ivy says. By the time my wallet is tucked away and my phone is out, she’s already got hers ready to scan.

“Wow, you run an efficient business,” I say, scanning her code with my phone and sending her five dollars.

“I’m going to be an ER nurse. I better run a tight ship.” She winks at me then snags her purse from the end of the counter and pulls a five dollar bill from her wallet. She hands it to Laney who stuffs it into a jar by the sink, where it joins more cash.

“You could maybe get a ship a little tighter than an open jar,” I joke.

Ivy leans toward me and smacks the back of my neck lightly, but with enough snap to it that I get the point.Do not pick apart Ivy or any of her systems. Noted.I hold up my palms.

“My bad.”

While Ivy recounts stories about the various patients and other nurses she saw today, my mind keeps bouncing back to my mom. I probably could have easily run into her today, though I know she’s not on my mom’s floor. I wonder what I would have done. I almost want to ask Ivy some questions about the hospital, to get a feel for when my mom will be discharged so I can check on her before the game tomorrow. I decide against it, though, when Matt finally takes his headset off and joins our conversation.

“Hospitals are gross.”

Ivy smacks him on the back of the neck, and I see the difference between when she really means it.

“Don’t be a dick,” she says, giving him a glare.

“What? I mean, everyone there is sick. And you know how it is—the first six months you did an internship you were sick all the time, picking up stuff there. Plus there’s the creepy factor of, I don’t know, death and all that.”

My stomach fills with lead, and suddenly the thought of eating anything makes me want to vomit. “You know what? Keep my five, but I’m actually exhausted. We travel early tomorrow, so I’m just gonna—” I point over my shoulder to my room. Laney’s the only one who notices, though, and her brow draws in.

“You okay?” she mouths.

The lead in my stomach tumbles.

I give her a small nod and head toward our room while Ivy rattles off a dozen reasons why Matt is a dumbass. She’s spot on with every single one of them.

I grab some clean sweats and an old T-shirt and hit the shower, letting the water pound my face and chest until I’ve drained it of hot. I feel bad because Laney won’t have any for a while now, but I just couldn’t seem to pry myself out.

The living room and kitchen are quiet by the time I crack open the door and let a puff of steam out with me. When I get back into our room, I toss my dirty clothes into my laundry basket in the corner then fall face-first into my pillow. I don’t sleep, but I lay like that for several minutes simply listening to the various sounds in the house. The stairs creak when Matt and Ivy go up them, and Matt’s not gentle with his door, but his sister is, which isn’t really that surprising. Laney seems to be cleaning up in the kitchen, and the fact that nobody is helping her kind of ticks me off a little, but not enough to drag my ass out there and help.

When our bedroom door creeks, I roll to my side to find Laney walking in with a small bowl, a fork and a potholder.

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