Fuck this day.
I flip my phone face down and close my eyes, praying it can’t get worse.
Ishould have known better than to tempt fate because she’s a fickle bitch who said,“Hold my beer and watch how easily I can make this day worse.”
First, the wheel of my carry-on broke when I dragged it through the slushy snow outside the hospital because why wouldn’t it?Seriously. And now, as I drag it through this placeI despise, I think about the first time I was here and want to scream. Oh, and that’s before I walk to my mother’s hospital room to find the officer sitting outside the door is none other than the boy I had a crush on in middle school.
Billy Coogan was our neighbor when we moved from Maryland to Kroydon Hills. He was my first crush, my first kiss, thanks to an unfortunate game of spin the bottle, and my first heartbreak at twelve years old when he told me my chest was so flat I looked like a boy. And now he’s guarding my mother, the felon.
Fuck fate.
Billy’s eyes track my every move as I stop in front of him, a smile stretching across his face. “Ashton Carmichael?” he asks excitedly, and I want to crawl into a hole. Side note, Billy didn’t age well. At least there’s that.
“Damn. You look good,” he whistles, and my irritation grows. Why do people think they have a right to comment on how you look? Would they really saywow, you look terribleif that’s what they thought?But then again, who knows? Maybe Billy would. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Billy.” I quickly glance past him at the closed door and wince. Three twenty-one. That’s the one. He’s really going to make me say it. There’s no way he doesn’t know who’s inside. He used to swim in our pool when we were kids. “I’m here to see my mom,” I finally manage to say, disgusted and humiliated. But hey, what’s a little humiliation between old friends?
He looks from me to the door before recognition finally flares to life in his bored brown eyes. “Damn, Ashton. Sorry, but I can’t let you in there.”
And yet again, this day can get worse. “Billy, her attorney called me yesterday and told me to come here. I’ve spent a day in an airport and a night in... whatever. It was a bad night. I flew halfway across the country to see my mother. Please let me in.”
I’m not above begging if I have to, but I’m not even sure why I bother. What the hell am I going to do for her anyway? I’m not even sure she’ll want to see me. And now I wonder why I even bothered.
“Did the attorney leave you their information?” he asks, avoiding my eyes at all costs.
“Billy...” I drop both my bags to the floor and try to center myself before I scream or worse, cry. “Please?—”
“Call the attorney, Ashton.” He crosses his arms over his barrel chest and softens his tone. “I’m not trying to be a dick. Just call the attorney.”
I yank my phone free and pray that the whole one bar I managed to get charged while I was in the taxi is still there, then redial the attorney from yesterday and wait.
“Charles Baker,” he answers after two rings.
“Mr. Baker, this is Ashton Carmichael. We spoke yesterday about my mother, Suzanna Carmichael,” I remind him as Billy watches.
“Ahh, yes, Ashton. What can I do for you?” He asks with a hurried voice as papers rustle on his end of the call, and I feel what’s left of my rapidly fraying nerves snapping one by one.
“I’m standing outside of my mother’s room in Kroydon Hills Hospital.” I glance over to Billy, who at least looks like he feels bad, even if he probably isn’t doing anything wrong, just his job. “The officer isn’t letting me in to see her.”
“No. You wouldn’t be allowed to see her, Ms. Carmichael. She’s under arrest.”
“I’m sorry— Then what am I doing here if I’m not even able to see her?” I whisper, shutting down instead of freaking out because I’ve got nothing left in the tank. “What part of this could I not have done from Chicago, where I’m supposed to be working?”
“You’re there for Kyrie,” he answers me matter-of-factly, like I’m supposed to understand what that means.
I lift my head to the ceiling but stop when Finn steps into my line of sight.
“What’s Kyrie?” I ask, confused and exhausted.
“Not a what. Who,” he corrects me. “According to your mother, her name is Valkyrie and she calls her Kyrie. She’s your three-month-old-sister, and your mother refused to speak to me until I got you here to take custody of her.”
Finn manages to wrap an arm around my waist and takes my weight, keeping me upright as the world tilts.
“I don’t have a sister...” The words are a whispered plea. “I can’t.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this, Ashton. But you do have a sister. Give me ten minutes, and I’ll meet you at the hospital and help get this all straightened out.”
He ends the call before I have a chance to argue, and I stare up at Finn, who looks like he just got caught cheating on an exam.
