It would take her a while to trust me enough to rely on me, but knowing she didn’t—at least not all the way yet—stung.
I put a gentle hand on her shoulder and kissed the top of her head.
“Jesse?” she whispered, squinting at me as she jerked her head up. “What are you doing here? Maddie has a game.”
“I didn’t want you to be here alone.” I slid into the seat next to her. “How long have you been here?”
“Since three, maybe? Mom was able to call for help after the fall but lost consciousness right after. I haven’t even seen her yet.All they’ve told me is that they’re running tests.” She dropped her head against my shoulder. “I feel like I’ve been here forever.”
I was more familiar than I wanted to be with how time could basically stop in a hospital and how hours and days could go by without realizing it.
“But I’m fine. We only have a few games left. I don’t want Maddie to miss it.”
“She’s not missing it. Caden is taking her today, and he’ll bring her home later.”
“Oh, that’s good. Maybe he can help Sabrina today too.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a tired smile. “I think she’s used to the kids, but it’s a lot easier when there’re two of us.”
“They’ll be fine.” I kneaded the back of her neck. “I wish you would have called me.”
“You wanted me to call you at two in the morning?” She rolled her eyes at me.
“If something is wrong, yes, I do.”
She shook her head. “You have a kid to worry about.”
“I haveyouto worry about.”
She rubbed her eyelids, her silence making me feel even worse, but I’d wait to argue that point until after she found out her mother was—hopefully—okay.
“Is there anyone you need me to call?”
She shut her eyes and shook her head.
“Nope. My cousins all live in Vegas now, and we hardly speak other than a Christmas card.”
“What about your mom’s friend? Ann, I think her name was?—”
“Anna. She passed away a couple of years ago. That was part of why I moved back and found a place so close. Mom wouldn’t admit it, but I could tell she was lonely.” She fell back against the vinyl cushion of the chair and crossed her arms. “So, we arepretty much alone. It’s not news, but it hit much different after sitting here for the past few hours.”
Her gaze floated to the back of the room.
“I used to think it was easier that way. Too many people in your life means too many expectations and too many ways they can disappoint you.”
Her eyes clenched shut for a second when they met mine.
“I didn’t mean you. Well…” She laughed to herself. “I didn’t meanonlyyou. It’s weird how life gets smaller as you get older, you know? When my grandparents were alive, our house was bursting at the seams with family and friends. Not just on holidays, but Sundays too. You remember.”
“I do.” I nodded and stretched my arm along the back of her chair. “I’ve never eaten more at one meal like I used to at your house.”
“Right?” Her eyes were bloodshot and tired, but I wondered how much of the exhaustion I spied in her gaze was from lack of sleep. “Then grandparents pass away, friends move, and everything you thought would last forever dwindles.”
She uttered a humorless laugh when her eyes found mine.
“I had my friends at work and in the city and always had Sabrina. But beingwithsomeone, that I was never good at.” She flashed me a wry grin. “I can only blame you so much.”
I chuckled but didn’t reply so she’d continue.
“I always felt like things were decided for me before I had a say in any of it. I liked soccer and I was good at it, so my mother pushed me into making that a way to pay for school. Then the only college that would give me a full scholarship was six hours away from everyone I cared about, but I had no choice but to go. Then…We don’t need to rehash that when I’m on two hours of sleep.” She pressed her palm to her forehead and let out a yawn.
