Almost as if Hudson could read my mind, he squeezed my hand and gave a sharp shake of his head when I looked back at him.
“The surgeon said it could take seven or more hours,” Rory said, “so we’ve got a bit yet.”
“Okay.” I couldn’t ask what I really wanted to know—what were the possible outcomes of this surgery? How likely was it that my daddy would come out of it okay? What I wouldn’t give to hear his disapproving tone as he reprimanded me one more time. “Where’s Momma?”
My sisters split apart and gestured down the hall toward a bland waiting area where my momma and gran sat, their heads resting against the wall behind them, eyes closed, hands clasped together between them. Surrounding them were Nash and Finn, both men with their long legs sprawled out in front of them, their arms crossed over their chests, heads tilted at odd angles as they slept.
“How long have y’all been here?” I asked.
“Since last night. We followed the ambulance up here. Sean’s out of town, but thankfully the girls are stayin’ at the Waverlys’ house until I get back home.” Rory lifted her chin in Nat’s direction. “Then Nash ran and picked up Nat from the airport a couple hours ago.”
I wrapped my arm around my younger sister and tugged her into my side, pressing our heads together, not even realizing how much I’d missed her until this very moment. “I thought you were supposed to be in Morocco.”
Nat waved a hand in front of her. “Meh, Morocco can wait. I knew y’all’d fall apart without me, so I postponed my shoot and hopped on the first flight I could get.”
They all must’ve been exhausted, especially Momma. They’d been here, pacing the halls of the hospital and worrying themselves sick. All while I’d been having sex in a tent with my non-boyfriend and worrying about watching a damnsunrise.
Even with Hudson’s reassurances in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop the thoughts from bombarding me, every one of them boiling down to the fact that I’d managed to fail at being a daughter, and all I’d had to do was show up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MAC
“Someone better tellme something to take my mind off all this nonsense.” Nat huffed and crossed her arms, leaning back into the uncomfortable chair. “Isn’t it just like Daddy to ruin a perfectly good trip home?”
It was obvious she was trying for snideness, but the wobble in her voice meant she didn’t quite pull it off.
We were clustered in the waiting room where we’d been for the past three hours, save for the short break when Finn, Nash, and Hudson had gone to grab everyone something to eat. Momma and Gran had only managed to nibble, most of the food going cold and uneaten in the takeout containers.
“Rory,” Will said, tipping a head in her direction. “That’s all you. What’s the news on the street?”
Rory hummed, her gaze bouncing around as if looking for inspiration in the drab walls of the hospital. “Oh! Did y’all hear about how Earl found a dead squirrel under his bed, and he doesn’t know how it got there?”
I gasped, my eyes going wide, but I quickly slapped a hand over my mouth when everyone whipped their heads in my direction. I sat tucked into Hudson’s side, his arm over the backof her chair as he alternated playing mindlessly with my hair and rubbing the aching, tight muscles in my neck.
“What do you know?” Rory asked, eyes narrowed.
A single look at Gran—one of Edna’s best friends and her ride or die—had me rolling my lips between my teeth and biting back the information that was bubbling to spill out. Besides, all I had was circumstantial evidence and hearsay.
So Edna had explicitly told me she was going to do that. And, yeah, okay, I had an actual text with the woman confessing her plans to do so. So what?
“What do I know about a dead squirrel?” I waved my hand in front of me as if brushing aside the boring news. “Who cares? Earl’s dumber than a doorknob. The fool probably forgot he shot one in his backyard, and Macy hauled it in for him. Seems like every week, he has another story about something that dog’s dragged in.”
Gran lifted her eyebrows and dipped her chin in an impressed gesture. Look at me—earning back points in the eyes of my family through lies. I was just a winner all around, wasn’t I?
“Did y’all tell ’em about Ella?” Finn asked.
Will snapped her head toward her fiancé, her brows furrowed. “What about her? And why do you know about it and I don’t?”
“Relax, Willowtree.” He hooked an arm around her shoulders and tugged her to him to press a kiss against her head. “Nash just told us about it when we grabbed food for y’all.”
“What’d my little firecracker do now?” Momma asked, exhaustion seeping into her tone.
Rory’s eye roll said more than a thousand words, and she gestured to her boyfriend. “Go on… I know how much you love rehashin’ it.”
Nash’s grin split his face. “Ella punched little Tommy Boulger right in the nose. Popped him nice and good—made him bleed and everything.”
I had to bite back a laugh at the glee in Nash’s tone—a response that wouldn’t go unnoticed by the group, considering the rest of them. There was a chorus of reactions, ranging from gasps—Momma and Will—to hoots—Gran and Finn—to a low whistle and an impressed, “Damn, girl” from Nat.
