“I went to CRBI to surprise you. Amber didn’t know where you were. You scared the life out of me, Vivian.” Now that I know she’s alive and well, anger creeps in.
“Well, excuse me for not calling. I was trying to comfort my brother so he didn’t have to go through this alone.”
“How is Dee?” I rein in my anger enough to ask.
“Stable,” Vivian says, sounding groggy. “Finally. They think she took antidepressants in addition to drinking a lot of wine. Walt and I spent the entire night in the waiting room of the ICU. Finally, the nurse convinced him to go home and get some sleep, that Dee was going to be okay for a few hours while he rested. When we arrived at his apartment, he was pacing and half-crazed. I sat with him until”—there’s a pause while she presumably checks the time—“God. An hour and a half ago. I feel like someone kicked my head in. I’ve never been so tired in my life.”
“Walt didn’t use?”
“He’s sober. Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure until I arrived at the hospital, but he’s all right. I’m not going to be coming home any time soon, though.”
I blink at this announcement. I don’t know if she means for a day or two or a week or two. Or longer.
“I’ll come to you.” The next best logical thing. “I can charter a jet. Let me know what you need from home. I’ll pack you a bag.”
“I packed one,” she tells me.
“Okay, then give me Walt’s address. Did he rent the place on Palmetto?” I rummage through a kitchen drawer in search of pen and paper. “Better give me the hospital name too.”
“No.”
The word freezes me into a solid block of irritation. “What do you mean, no?”
“I have it under control, Nate.”
“Doesn’t change the fact I can help if you let me.”
“We don’t need help. There’s nothing to do. I’ll come home when things are settled.”
Hearing she doesn’t need my help is akin to her saying she doesn’t give a shit about me. Old childhood wounds wriggle out of my subconscious. I’ve been rejected before.
“You should have called me,” I bark, which is probably the wrong thing to say to someone who’s slept for ninety minutes in the last thirty or so hours. “I would have flown out with you. I could be there for you.”
“That’s not your job,” she replies coolly.
“Speaking of, I won’t hold the Grand Marin position open indefinitely.” It’s petty, but I’m angry, so that’s what I say.
“Fine. Don’t. My brother is my number one responsibility.” She’s calmer than I like. Meanwhile, I’m like an overheated Hot Pocket, a steamy mess inside, roughly the temperature of lava, and beginning to ooze from the cracks. “I’m going back to sleep. Lock my front door on your way out.”
“Vivian,” I say, my tone gruff. When she doesn’t respond, I think she’s hung up until I hear her draw a breath. Rather than argue, I mutter, “Call me when you wake up.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Vivian
It’s evening on the same day Nate called, and I’m walking back to the waiting room with a cup of steaming coffee in hand. It’s not for me. I don’t want to be jumpier than I have been for the last twenty-some hours.
Walt and I spent the day grabbing catnaps here and there before coming back to the hospital to visit Dee. She’s out of ICU. They’re keeping her for observation through tonight.
I encounter her sister, Shannon, who flew in this afternoon. She looks as tired and bedraggled as I feel. I managed to put on makeup and pull my hair into a ponytail, but that’s as good as it’s going to get.
“One cream, two sugars.” I hand the cup to Shannon who offers me a weak smile.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Where’s Walt? With Dee?”
She nods as she sips from the paper cup. “He’s worried.”
“Well, he can join the club.” We lower ourselves into the seats we’ve been warming for most of the day.
“I’m going to convince her to come back to Atlanta,” Shannon announces, and my stomach sinks. I know that’s what she needs to do, and I know Dee needs to go with her. “They can’t get married.”
She says the word “married” and my stomach tightens. For a moment, I was sucked into a fantasy with Nate that could have ended up there. But, like I said, the other shoe always drops. His assertion that the shoe already dropped was premature. Life had a bigger shoe waiting.
“They say they’re in love.” Shannon snorts. “Like they have any clue. Dee jumped from one addiction to another. She thinks your brother is going to solve her problems? She’s delusional.” She slants me an apologetic look. “No offense. I don’t mean anything bad about your brother.”
I hold up a hand to let her know no offense was taken. I should have expected this scenario the moment he showed up on my doorstep. If there’s one thing Walt and I can count on, it’s that love hurts. Losing our parents, his multiple visits to rehab, and now this. What more proof do we need?
“I’m a bitter divorcée, can you tell?” Shannon’s smile is wry. She’s pretty in a rough way. Taller and squarer than her younger sister. “I wasn’t ready for marriage, and I was stable. What about you?” Her eyes snap to my naked left hand to check for a ring.
“I’m not the relationship type.” I don’t like how that sounds, and worse, I don’t like how it feels. Like it’s true. Time and again I’ve watched love tear people apart. And then I tiptoe though the tulips with Nathaniel freaking Owen believing I’m going to come out the other side intact.
I’m the delusional one.
Over the last few days I spent alone, I came to the conclusion that what Nate and I have is too big to hold on to. Like a deflated hot-air balloon wadded up in my arms slowly, slowly filling.
Last night Walt called panic-stricken over Dee. He hadn’t been able to get ahold of his sponsor and didn’t know who else to call. I didn’t think, I acted. Threw together a suitcase and climbed in the car. I stayed on the phone with him for the first leg of the drive, stopped and picked up coffee, and then called him during the last hour to see how he was. Better, for sure, but not great. The phone call I didn’t make was one to Nate.
I thought about his mom using. I thought of the way she treated him, trying to take his money and breaking his heart all over again. I thought of my mom and her teaching me to walk in high-heeled shoes. The way I cried in her closet after she died, both hating her and loving her with equal intensity. I thought of Nate’s dad, who begged, borrowed, and stole for his next hit. I thought of Walt, and then Dee.
Addicts have a way of swirling the environment around them into a funnel cloud and sucking in everyone nearby. Nate has worked hard to separate himself from the addicts in his life. He stayed away from his mother for his own self-preservation. When he went back to her, she hurt him all over again. The pain never goes away. There’s no avoiding it.
Staying with Nate subjects him to Walt’s addictions, which are an ongoing battle. I can’t abandon my brother, but I can choose not to subject Nate to any more pain. He’s been giving and caring and putting himself on the line for me since we met. He’d have dropped everything to come here, and if I truly loved him, I’d never ask him to do that.