Since it’s Thanksgiving, the hospital had trouble getting ahold of Dr. Riedel, but he called me personally to tell me he was on his way, that he’s been briefed on everything, and she’s in good hands with the on-call doctor.
That doesn’t make me feel too much better. Neither does the limited staff.
I glance toward Lily who’s spinning her phone between her left thumb and forefinger. She’s still wet, her hair clumped in thick damp strands, and her dress clings to all the parts of her I wanted to explore in the shower. I wouldn’t have, considering my mom was in the house, but it still didn’t stop me from thinking about it, from wanting it.
My mind wrestles back and forth, fighting against the rapid whiplash of emotions from tonight. Tempting desire, the utter need to ravage Lily ripped away with worry and fear.
Now she sits here with me, equally worried. Shoulders hunched forward, hands clasped tightly together, fingers fidgeting and twisting. Her whole demeanor is downcast as she furiously chews her fingernails. Even her right leg randomly bounces.
After several more paces the width of the waiting room, I plop next to Lily and drop my hands in my lap. I hate waiting. I hate one of my mom’s last Thanksgivings ended with her in the hospital, in pain, and I hate that I can’t find the right words to say to Lily.
There’s a ding down the hall, an elevator, and when I glance up, Morgan comes tip-tapping down the hall in what has to betwo-inch heels. She’s wrapped in a black silk dress that grazes mid-thigh and gold bangles decorate both wrists. No doubt she was having Thanksgiving dinner with her family. They always have massive celebrations.
Lily goes still at my side, her knee abruptly ceasing to bounce.
Morgan regards Lily, and her painted eyebrows, darker than her regular color, shoot up, and she shuffles her purse to her other shoulder. “Lily. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”
I frown. Where else would she be?
Lily’s hard gaze saddens, and she looks down at her hiking boots. They must’ve been what she threw on in a hurry, either that or it’s a tell of stress. She only nods, standing all the same. “I’ll go get some coffee.”
Does she really want coffee? Or is she giving us privacy? If it’s the latter, I don’t want it.
She pads off, splotches of wet peppering her dress, and Morgan notices.
She looks between us. “I’m so sorry about your mom. Is she okay?”
I launch into detail about the fluid in her airway and the procedure they need to do to make sure she can go home and be comfortable.
“I’ll wait with you,” Morgan says as she sits in one of the creaky chairs.
“Morgan, you don’t need to do that. You should go enjoy the rest of your night with your family.”
Morgan shakes her head. “I want to be here, Noah. With you.”
She’s been growing bolder with her claims recently. She’s always respected the boundaries I have in place, but her text messages lately have been flirtatious and bordering on persistent.
“Morgan …” My eye flicks down the hall, willing Lily to come back. It feels cowardly, but Morgan follows my gaze.
“You’re falling for her. Aren’t you?”
I nod.
“It’s a mistake, Noah. She’s not right for you. She’s running from someone and she’s only going to bring that into your life.”
I blink, then cross my hands in front of my chest, but my brain snags on one of her words. “Somone?”
Her eyes widen. “Just forget I said anything.” She stands. “You’re too good for it, Noah. I can promise you that.”
What the hell is she talking about?
She reaches up to dab under her eyes with her pointer finger and the bangles on her right wrist fall to her elbow. Her eyes harden, a darkness swirling there I’ve never seen Morgan harbor. “You’re not the only one willing to sacrifice something for the one they love.”
I squint. “What the hell is going on?”
Morgan hesitates for a minute, and it sounds like she may want to say more. A shadow passes over her face, but she turns to click back down the hallway. “I hope your mom feels better, Noah. I truly do.”
The expectation put on me by this town is unfair. Morgan deserves someone, yes, but that someone isn’t me. I almost wish I was the one caught all those years ago instead of Brent taking the fall. Maybe then everyone would see me in a different light, not always expecting good.
