“I’ll be there too.” Quinn gives his brother a pat on his shoulder.
“All right, guys,” the nurse says from the door. “It’s time to head to the OR. You know where the waiting room is?”
Halle nods, then kisses Casen’s head. “I love you. You’re gonna do great.” She gives his hand a squeeze and steps away.
Quinn takes her place, saying goodbye to his twin, and then the team wheels Casen out of the room.
Once we’ve gathered our things, we shuffle to the designated waiting room, and Halle sinks into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, covering her face with her hands.
“Are you… crying?” Quinn asks as he plops into the seat beside her.
She lowers her hands, revealing her tear-stained face. “Yes, I’m crying. I’m supposed to keep you two safe. It’s my job to protect you, and now Casen has a broken leg and needs surgery. That’s my fault.”
Quinn frowns, his brows knitted together. “How is it your fault? He ran and fell wrong. At school. It was a freak accident.”
“It doesn’t matter.” A breath shudders out of her. “This kind of shit didn’t happen when you lived with Mom.” A sob escapes her as she cups her hands over her red, splotchy face again.
I sit beside her and silently take her hand, wishing I could take the pain away.
Quinn snorts. “Sure it did.” He rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a scar on the underside of his bicep. “I fellon the steps outside of that house on Cellar Road. You remember the one? Needed stitches.”
Halle frowns. “I… how did I not know about this?”
With a shake of his head, he rolls the sleeve back down. “Mom made us swear not to tell you. She knew you’d be pissed, but it was an accident. Just like this was. If you’re to blame for anything, it’s caring a whole lot, and I don’t think that’s so bad.”
A small, watery laugh leaves her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He nods once and hops to his feet. “I’m going to the vending machine. You guys want anything?”
I shake my head, and Halle gives a small, pathetic “no.”
When he’s gone, she gives my hand a squeeze. “I don’t know how people do it.”
“Do what?” I frown.
“Raise kids. This part of it is so hard, and I’m not even their actual parent. It’s painful to know that I can’t protect them from everything.”
“Maybe not everything, but at least you can protect them from STDs and unplanned pregnancy,” I joke.
“Caleb,” she groans, dropping her head back against the wall. “That mortifying memory was just beginning to fade from my mind, and you had to go and bring it back again.”
Amusement washes over me, but I school my expression as best as I can. “Sorry.”
Arms crossed, she glowers. It’s so damn cute. “No, you’re not.”
No, I’m not.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. Though I’ve clearedmy calendar today, I automatically reach for it, concerned it’s a client or colleague who needs my help.
Instead, the name on the screen makes my stomach sink.
My relationship with my mom is the definition of complicated. Once I started seeing through her bullshit and recognized her manipulation tactics, it became impossible to ignore them. I’ve put up a wall between myself and my parents to curb her meddling. My dad isn’t the meddling type, but he never steps in. In fact, he’s content to go along with my mom’s scheming most of the time.
“I better answer this,” I tell Halle as I stand.
I’ve ignored my mom’s last few calls, which means if I don’t, there’s a chance she’ll show up at my house unannounced in the very near future.
Though my parents live in Hawthorne Mills, it’s surprisingly easy to avoid them. All I have to do is avoid their usual haunts, and that’s simple, since they keep to the schedule they’ve had for years. My mom goes to the grocery store every Monday at eleven. She visits with her friends at the local tea shop every Wednesday at noon. On Fridays she volunteers at the local thrift shop. My dad still works during the week, and on the weekends the two of them frequent the country club a few towns over.
