She chuckled. “In the mornings, I drink my coffee with half and half only, but in the afternoons itmusttaste like dessert or I can’t choke it down.”
“Good to know.”
Hollie was a Thompson. I could already see it in so many ways. Not only did she possess Thompson physical traits, she talked like one—filling silences with ease, taking the edge out of difficult situations. Bea did that flawlessly; it was one of the things that made her a perfect match for Tag, who was as socially inept as a rock unless he was talking about horses.
I looked back to the third generation of Thompsons, noting Hollie’s minis were doing the same exact thing with Cade—coaxing a smile onto his reluctant face, making his stomach feel better. He’d even sat up and let them deal him in. A half smile tugged at my lips as Cade organized the cards in his hands, accidentally dropping one onto his lap. His tongue came out as he focused on getting the hold just right.
“So,” she held the word out and jerked the top of her head toward Cade. “What’s the status update?”
I sat forward in my seat. “There’s not one, really. We talked to the doctor and they said four hours of observation is pretty standard. We went down to radiology right after you called, so now we’re just waiting for the word.” I watched Cade for a moment. “My gut says he’s fine.”
Hollie glanced at him. “Yeah, mine, too.”
“Which means you guys waited for nothing.”
She swallowed her cheek full of coffee. “That is severely underestimating peace of mind.”
“True.”
“Knowing he will be okay is worth however many hours this takes.” Her eyes roamed my face. “You’ll feel better, too.”
I nodded, averting my gaze. “I will.”
A beat of silence fell between us. I wanted to say or do something to redeem myself. My normal mood wasn’t downcast and overwhelmed. I didn’t hide from people and avoid conversation. It wasn’t like me to feel embarrassed or self-conscious, but I couldn’t help but wish Hollie would’ve met me on a better day. When I could’ve accurately represented who I really am. Drowning wasn’t my norm. And for some reason I hadn’t fully come to terms with, I didn’t want her to think this was me at my best.
Words eked out of my throat. “You…caught me on a bad day, Hollie.”
She turned to face me, but didn’t speak.
“I’m not usually like this.”
“Like what?” A gentle frown pulled into her brow. “Concerned for your child’s safety?”
“No.” I chuckled at her dry humor. “I meant…needy and difficult.” I shook my head at myself. “I asked a perfect stranger to come back here and sit with me in the ER instead of insisting you go be with your family. For all I know, you’re being triggered by a hospital phobia right now, but you’re masking.”
A laugh bubbled out of her. “Masking?”
“Like hiding.”
“I know what it is.” Her laugh diminished. “Do I look like I’m being triggered right now?”
My gaze darted up to meet hers. The shimmer in her chocolate eyes seemed to leak through cracks, held back by some unknown thing.
I cleared my throat and looked away, forced a smile. “No, you don’t.”
“What about you? Are you masking hospital phobias?”
I chuckled like it was silly, but I wanted her to know. Something in her eyes told me she’d understand a sucky day. I raised the straw to my lips, ready to shove it in my mouth after I admitted a bit of my truth. “Yeah, actually. I hate this place.”
Her brows raised. Not judgment, just curiosity. “Is that why you wanted company?”
I nodded, taking a long time with the coffee.
“Did you have a bad experience or something?”
I swallowed. “Or something.”
She waited, not moving to fill the void my lack of explanation created. I thought about just letting it go and pretending I hadn’t brought it up, but there it was—humming loud, an admission I couldn’t take back. “My…” I stopped, shook my head. Why was I talking to her like this? “My…wife…passed away in the emergency room.”
