Tears blur my vision. I palm my eyes before they can spill over. Joy settles deeper into her pillow and smiles. “Time to hear Lizzie shut down Darcy Proposal Number One.”
I lean my elbows on the mattress and stumble through the words. I read aloud until my voice runs out, until Joy is sleeping. Her face is peaceful, and while I know I gave her a small gift of distraction, I know she gave me the greater gift by far. A hand to hold on to, as I finally move forward.
21
Willa
Playlist: “hate u love u,” Olivia O’Brien
“Slow down, Willa,” Mama grumbles. Her hands tap the bedsheets, which is a tell for her discomfort. “You’re rushing and I can’t understand. My gentleman reader is much more deliberate with his language.”
I roll my eyes, letting Pride and Prejudice drop to my lap. Mama told me one of Dr. B’s sons who is home for the holidays has been reading to her in the evenings that Mama mandatorily kicks me out so that I do things like eat a solid meal, and keep up with my training and workouts. I have to admit that I felt my grinch heart go lub-dub when she told me about this. Some young guy spending his holiday evenings with a sick woman, reading her Austen, is about as sweet as it gets.
“Well, maybe your gentleman reader should read to you instead.”
Mom sniffs. “He will. Our next date is tomorrow.”
That makes me laugh. “A date, huh? You playing cougar, Mama?”
Mama’s smile is faint but warm. “That would be something. He’s handsome. Hard to tell since he’s shy, always covered head-to-toe, but you can tell there’s a real catch of a man hiding under all those protective layers.”
That pricks my chest. It makes me think of Ryder. I’ve been awful. I bailed on coffee the morning after he canceled on dinner because I’m the wussiest wuss there is. I was terrified of what he was going to say. I have no idea where we go from here, since he came over after semifinals.
Actually, you’re the one who came. Like. A. Train.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I mutter to myself.
“What are you talking to yourself about now?”
“Nothing.”
Mama hits the button to raise her hospital bed a little and slowly shifts to her side, looking as if moving hurts like hell. “How’s your asshole lumberjack?”
“Still an asshole,” I grumble. It’s all Ryder’s fault. It’s his stupid brother-in-law who sent us on our team-building day that ended in the waterfall make-out. It’s Ryder who seduced me with peanut butter cups and whiskey and the world’s most glorious orgasm. Now we’ve crossed that invisible boundary and exist in some terrible limbo, far out of frenemy territory.
What if he wants to cross back over, to how we were? I’ll be stuck, pining for the guy who’s ruined me for other men, while he’s happy busting my chops and treating me like some platonic thorn in his side. I’m not doing that shit. But, on the other hand, if he wants to pursue whatever it was he started on my couch, I can’t go there, either. I’m not cracking open my heart. I can’t afford to. I’m stuck and miserable and I miss him something fierce, which just makes me more miserable. I’m not supposed to miss Ryder. I’m supposed to miss torturing him.
“What are his holiday plans?” Mama asks tiredly.
I stand and hike the blanket over her shoulder, then gently rub her back. “Just said he’s staying at his childhood home, spending time with his parents and siblings.”
“You’re avoiding him.”
I groan as I drop back into my chair. “Ma, can we not psychoanalyze me?”
“Did he try to get past friendship with you? Is that why you’re freezing him out?”
“Joy Sutter, stop it. I’m not freezing him out, just letting things cool off a little bit. We’re frenemies. There’s sexual tension in spades. I drive him nuts, and he…he terrifies me.”
Mama tips her head, her eyes pinched with concern. “Why does he terrify you?”
“Because I care about him. Because I don’t want to lose our diabolical friendship. I’d rather stay frenemies than take the risk of trying to be something more, just to have all of it taken away. If I stay his frenemy, I only miss out on a hypothetical. But if I try with him, I could lose…everything.”
“Damn, Rosie.” That makes my heart twist. She called me that all the time as a little kid. “You’ve been doing some thinking.”
I lob a peppermint at her playfully, making sure it comes up short and lands in front of her. “Not much else to do while I’m on break.”
“Sounds pretty chickenshit to me.”
My jaw tightens, my hackles rise. “Do not provoke me, Mother.”
“Oooh, she Mothered me. You’re missing out. It’s dumb logic. No, it’s not even dumb logic, it’s downright illogical. Have you ever considered that after you’ve spent months getting to know him, building trust and safety, finally your heart is giving you the green light? Now you’re going to sit there, idling, and waste your one tank of gas.”
Damn. I never thought of it like that.
Mama shifts in bed and tries to hide a grimace. It snaps me out of my thoughts. “What’s going on, Mama?”
She sighs. “I just can’t get comfortable.”
Sadness, guilt, worry churn in my stomach. “What can I do?”
“Nothing.” Mama burrows into her blanket and shakes her head. “Nothing to be done.”
That’s not okay. I glance at my phone. Her nurse is taking her break and isn’t due back for another half hour. I’m not letting my mom shake with pain for thirty minutes. I’m fixing this. Now.
I pull out my phone and dial the number Dr. B gave me. He answers after the third ring.
“Everything all right?” he asks.
“Mama’s hurting. Can you come down—”
“Be right there.”
The line’s dead before I can sigh in relief.
Dr. B’s whipping open the door within thirty seconds, his attention on Mama. Just as he’s shutting the door behind him, a shriek echoes from the hallway, followed by a man’s laugh.
Chills soar up my spine. I know that sound. Dr. B freezes. Mama’s attention darts from the door to me.
I eye the door that leads to Dr. B’s home. I haven’t once used it. I have no clue what the rest of the house looks like. A few times, I’ve heard the peal of laughter, the happy echo of voices in a kitchen. It sounds like a big family that sits at the dining room table and hangs out. The idea is completely foreign to me.
Mama sees me staring at the door. “Willa, what’s the matter with you?”
“I just heard something.”
There’s that man’s laugh again. The hair on my arms and neck stands on end.
I’m unaware of Mama and Dr. B, as I rush out the door. My steps are soft down the hall that’s dark and quiet, tucked away from the rest of the house. But with each step I take, noise grows and light sends long beams across the polished floors. With each step, I’m greeted by the fragrant smells of cooking and happy sounds. I stand on the edge of the wing, facing a large foyer, blinded by the beauty of their home. Airy white walls, clean lines. Natural wood, linen drapes, tall windows.