Three firefighters step in front of the door like a wall.
“Nope,” one says. “Not happening, Theresa.”
“I want to see my son,” she snaps. “Get out of my way.”
I step into the hall and slip around them before they can say another word.
“This woman is not to come near my husband’s room,” I say loudly. “If she does, I will call the police. Do you hear me?”
Two nurses at the nurses’ station freeze and nod. One stands and comes to get Theresa. Another murmurs something about calling security.
Theresa’s face twists. “You have no right. That’s my son.”
I laugh—a sharp, humorless sound.
“No, Theresa. I have every right. That’s my husband. And he doesn’t want you here. You need to leave.”
She opens her mouth, but I’m not done.
“And that call you made to CPS?” I continue. “Yeah, we know you made the false allegations, and we will be reporting you for that too.”
The hallway goes dead silent.
Then she says, “That was supposed to be anonymous. That’s not your business who reported you.”
“Keep throwing bricks,” I step closer. “I’m building a fucking house with them. You will never be a part of my family’s life. You’re done. We’ll be filing restraining orders. You will never come around any of us again. What you did was unforgiveable.”
Theresa’s eyes dart down the hall, and I notice Cami heading this way. I’m the least of her problems now.
Theresa looks scared and turns before heading the opposite way. I doubt she’ll be back. I breathe a big sigh of relief and lean back against the wall.
Cami storms over. “What did I miss?”
I tell her everything and that Ollie’s okay.
Her jaw tightens. Her eyes go cold, and she turns to follow her mom. “Go be with Ollie,” she says. “I’ll handle it.”
And I know she will. This won’t be good for Theresa, but that’s not my problem. Making sure my husband is okay is my focus.
I go back into the room and sit carefully on the bed beside my husband, pressing my forehead to his. “You’re okay,” I whisper.
He kisses my hair. “Yeah, we are.”
Outside the door, our people stand guard.
Chapter 34
Ollie
Tennessee Orange by Megan Moroney
I’m home recuperating from a stupid fall. The floor gave way, and I fell, and it pissed me off. Because number one, it was a mistake, and I knew better than to trust that floor of that barn, but I did it anyway, and I’m not taking risks like that again. Lesson learned. I can’t risk anything happening to me. My family needs me.
The Crock Pot in the kitchen smells amazing from whatever it is Poppy threw in there this morning. I have the week off from work while I recover, and I don’t mind our little family hunkered down on this cold day, with movies and the smell of good food.
Owen works on his math at the coffee table in front of us. And he informs us, “I see the Crock Pot made the move with us. Great.”
Poppy doesn’t look up but laughs. “It absolutely did. I wasn’t leaving it behind.”
