“We need to call her son,” I said as I hurried out after the EMTs.
“I’ll take care of that, you stay with Mrs. Hamilton,” Meg instructed.
At the hospital, Mrs. Hamilton was wheeled back into triage, and I was left in the waiting room. Meg arrived twenty minutes later.
“I had to leave a message on Daniel Hamilton’s voicemail. He didn’t answer,” she told me.
“I’m not surprised.” I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her tightly. “Thank you, Galloway.”
She tilted her head up to look at me, going up on her tiptoes and kissing my mouth. “No need to thank me.”
I raised my eyebrows. “So, I heard you calling me your boyfriend earlier. Is that what I am?”
Meg groaned and poked me in the side. “Can we not discuss our relationship status in the hospital waiting room?”
I kissed the tip of her upturned nose. “So, you’re saying we have a relationship to discuss?”
She pressed her forehead against my chest. “You’re relentless.”
I squeezed her even tighter. “That’s right, baby. And don’t you forget it.”This time she didn’t freak out at the endearment.
We waited for almost four hours before a doctor came out. Meg and I, both exhausted yet overly caffeinated from the four cups of coffee we had ingested, jumped to our feet.
“How’s Mrs. Hamilton?”
“Adam, you know I can’t give you any information unless you’re family. You don’t need a law degree to understand that,” the doctor said firmly.
I had known Dr. Jameson for most of my life. He and my dad played golf together once a month. I had played little league with his son Dylan. “Dr. Jameson, you also know that Mrs. Hamilton has no family around. We can’t get hold of Daniel. She has no one else. Can’t you just tell me if she’s going to be okay?”
I knew I was pushing it. I was very familiar with the boundaries of medical privacy. HIPAA was very clear on who could receive medical information. But I also knew that Dr. Jameson was the compassionate sort. He closed his metal clipboard and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I can’t give you specifics, but I can tell you that she’ll be fine.” He dropped his voice. “It was a stroke, but not a major one. She’s lucky you found her when you did.” He cleared his throat. “Have Daniel find me if and when he gets here.” He clasped my shoulder, giving me a hearty pat before going back through the swinging doors.
“I should stay here until Daniel shows up,” I said, turning to Meg.
“You need sleep, Ducate. You look like the walking dead,” Meg pointed out.
“Thanks, you sure know how to make a guy feel good about himself,” I teased.
Meg cupped my cheek. “Someone’s got to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”
I covered her hand with mine. “And that someone is you?”
We stood there for a few moments before she gently pulled her hand away. “I’ll stay with you.”
“No, one of us should get some sleep,” I protested, but Meg had already sat down, picking up a magazine and thumbing through it.
“It’s you and me, Ducate. Remember?” She smiled, and I found myself sinking into the chair beside her. She kissed me softly, and for once, it felt like all was right with the world.
Chapter 19
Meghan
“Where are you off to so early?” Whitney asked as I came into the kitchen on the morning five days after taking Mrs. Hamilton to the hospital.
“I’m heading to the hospital to check on Adam’s neighbor, Mrs. Hamilton, before working on the mural. I think I could finish it today,” I told her. I was only giving her part of the story. I also planned to swing by the coffee shop and pick up breakfast for Adam. He had planned to go and see Mrs. Hamilton before work, and I knew he would have forgotten to eat.
Things with Adam felt different. I knew they were. I could no longer pretend that what we were doing was purely physical. We had discarded that pretense at Old Grourer’s swimming hole.
Hearing his explanation about what happened all those years ago had hurt, but it had also healed a part of me that had been broken for too long. I found I was also incredibly angry with myself. Angry for being so stubborn, for ruining something before it had the chance to begin. If I could, I’d go back in time and smack the shit out of younger Meghan Galloway because she was a total asshole. I also realized I had already started to forgive Adam and that my anger had been replaced by something else. Something so much stronger.
And I honestly didn’t know what to do with that.
Whitney gave me a bland look. “You’re going to the hospital to check on Adam’s neighbor?” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Sweetheart, I work on movie sets for a living. I know a line when I hear one.”
I threw my hands up in the air in frustration. Admittedly things were better with Whitney, but there was still a barrier between us that only time would erase. I still became easily annoyed by most things she said. Mostly because it had become my defacto reaction to her over the past few years. But like with Adam, I was learning to let go of my anger toward my sister. I had lost too many people due to my stubborn pride, and it was time to put that evil bitch in check.
“It’s not a line. That’s where I’m going.” I tried really hard not to sound defensive. But I’m sure that’s exactly how I sounded.
Whitney turned on the coffee maker and got down a mug. She raised her eyebrows, indicating the coffee, and I shook my head. “Right, because you’re going to the ‘hospital.’” I couldn’t help bristling at the implied air quotes.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and leveled her a look that she knew exactly how to interpret. It was my patented “don’t-fuck-with-me” look that many Southport residents knew to heed with caution.
My sister gave no shits about my don’t-fuck-with-me look.
“I know you’re sleeping with Adam. Mom told me how you snuck him out of here at six in the morning. She says you’re never home at night anymore and that you’ve been decidedly less...repressed.”She poured her coffee, adding four spoonfuls of sugar, the sight of which made my teeth ache.
“Repressed? Mom said I was repressed? Somehow I don’t think those are Mom’s words.” I bared my teeth in a facsimile of a smile.
Whitney took a long sip of coffee and shrugged. “Okay, I may have exaggerated, but you can’t deny that a good ol’ bang fest with the love of your life has changed your attitude for the better.”
I sputtered, nearly choking. “He’s not the love of my life,” I argued lamely.
Whitney lifted her eyebrows again but didn’t say anything. She let me marinate on that one myself.
“Anyway, I have to run into town to do some errands for Mom later. Shall I swing by Adam’s office and pick you up for lunch? Is that burger joint on Maple still open?” Whitney asked, deftly veering us away from the topic of who I was sleeping with, even if it now hung in the air with all the power of something unresolved.
Love of my life.Love of my life? Of course, he was the love of my life.
So what was I going to do about that?
The childhood desire to run far away from my hometown still burned bright, but now it felt more like something I ought to feel rather than actually felt. But could I really see myself staying in Southport? That was the question. What was here for me?