Dr.Livingston smiled at me, the corners of her light eyes crinkling.“She’s been looking forward to your visit.She’s calmer when she knows you’re coming.”
I blinked.That was new.
“She’s...calmer?”I asked, making sure I didn’t mishear her.
The doctor nodded.“She’s aware now.More self-reflective.It’s a good sign, Cadence.A very good sign.”
I nodded slowly.“And when...”I tripped over the idea.“When do you think she might be released?”
Dr.Livingston hesitated, reading my face.“If her progress continues, possibly in the next few weeks.She will be set up with our outpatient care department, and I’ll continue to monitor her closely.”
My heart gave a small, uncertain twist.“That soon?”
“It’s a good thing,” she said gently.
I didn’t know how to explain that good didn’t feel like the right word.I wasn’t ready.Not for her to be out in the world again.Not for the possibility of her being near me without the doctors nearby.
But I only nodded in response because that was easier than screaming out my fears to Dr.Livingston.
Before leaving me at the door, the doctor added, “I finally got to meet your father the other day.He’s been stopping by every now and again.He keeps his visits brief, but I think they’ve helped your mother.She’s more receptive now.”
My stomach tightened.“He shouldn’t be visiting her.”
Dr.Livingston tilted her head.“You don’t want him to?”
“No.It’s just....He...doesn’t get to decide anything about her anymore.Or me.”
There was no edge in her tone when she said, “Noted.I can’t stop the visits, but he has no access to her records or anything.Whatever he knows, it’s what Lindie decides to share.”
Which wouldn’t be anything at all.
Dr.Livingston excused herself, and I stepped into the room.
Lindie sat in the chair by the window, a blanket over her lap.Her dark hair had been cut since my last visit, a neat bob framing her face.She looked older but not fragile.Healthy even, which wasn’t a look she’d had since the summer.
She looked up when she saw me.“You cut your hair,” she said first.Her voice was low, still husky, but softer.
“Just trimmed it,” I said.“You did the same.”
For a moment, she simply looked at me.I couldn’t read her expression, not that I ever could, but for the first time in a long while, there was no anger in her eyes.No sharpness.Only quiet.
“You’re earlier than usual,” she said.
“Light traffic,” I mumbled, not wanting to get into the fact that avoiding Paxon meant me practically running to my car.
A small nod.“I’ve been doing better.The doctor says I’m doing well.”
“She told me,” I said carefully.
There was a pause.“You don’t look happy about it.”
I swallowed, my heart rate spiking.I was terrified of setting her off even if the doctor and the whole world thought she was doing better.“I am happy.I just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon.”
She pressed her lips together, a small tremor passing through her fingers.For a second, I thought she might snap back, that familiar, dangerous shift I used to feel before everything went wrong.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she looked down at her hands, fiddling with the edge of the blanket like she couldn’t stand to look at me.When she spoke, her voice was low, rough.“I know what I did.To you.”
