“You and your family are our angels,” she whispers in my ear.
“So is yours to us,” I say softly.
To us. Are we a unit? Because in this moment, it certainly seems that way.
When she steps back, her eyes land on Woody. She gives him a watery smile, then pulls him into a hug. He’s never been one to hug strangers, but he doesn’t hesitate.
That’s when it hits me. He canceled surgeries for this. For Sanders. For Luke. Once upon a time, he never would have.
The realization twists inside me, equal parts affection and jealousy. If he can do it now, why couldn’t he then? And beneath it all, the ache of knowing I can’t trust this to last, not when history says otherwise.
On the sidewalk, the December air bites. String lights twinkle above Market Street, casting everything in a soft golden glow.
Carly gathers her children, Luke leaning into her side, Leigh skipping at her hand. They wave to us and then head toward their car.
We watch them walk away for a moment. Sanders tugs at my sleeve. “Mom, thank you for agreeing to do this #SaveChristmas challenge. I'm so glad our family could do it together. It means the world to Luke. And me.”
The wordfamilylodges in my chest like a thorn. He still sees us that way. Sometimes I wish we were. But maybe if he does, that’s enough.
I kiss the top of his head, even as my throat burns. “I’m so glad too, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
Behind us, Woody lingers silently. When I finally turn, I catch him watching me. For a fleeting second, something warm flickers there. It twists through me before I can shove it down.
Then his phone rings. Its tinny tone is loud in the chilly night, like a warning bell. He pulls it out, scans the screen, and his shoulders square.
“Alright, Squirt.” He leans down, pressesa quick kiss to Sanders’s hair. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll pick you up if you want to just take one car."
"No, I think it's best for us to just meet you at the airport tomorrow morning. Thank you, though. Have a good night. Oh, and thanks for grabbing the tab.”
He’s already lifting the phone to his ear as he turns away, voice dropping into that clipped tone I know too well. “Beamer.”
And just like that, the bubble pops.
I hug my coat tight, watching him stride off, already absorbed in someone else’s crisis. For half a heartbeat, I thought maybe he’d changed. That maybe this trip would be different.
But no. It’ll be New York with Woody and his phone. I should have let him use work as an excuse and bowed out. It would've been easier than watching him halfway participate.
EIGHT
Woody
I drop my bag by the door and kick off my shoes. The condo is dim except for the glow spilling from the kitchen. No TV humming, no chatter, no reminders of anyone but me. Just the laptop waiting on the counter and the stack of charts I promised Peck.
I should be figuring out what to pack for New York, but I owe Nate this first. I know he likes to get his reps and nurses to set up his cases well in advance, so I've already put him behind.
Lane and Sanders are just a couple of miles away, probably getting ready for bed, their laughter still faint in my ears. I ache to be there, to be part of that bedtime routine.
The dinner with Carly and the kids keeps replaying in my head. I loved watching Sanders’ pride, Lane’s soft smile when Carly hugged her, the way she looked at me when I didn’t reach for my phone. For one night, I almost believed I’d managed to balance both worlds.
Almost.
The charts pull me back fast enough. I scroll throughBill Thorson's file first. This is one I really wish I could have moved to next week, but it can't wait. It's the hip revision I’d flagged as tricky.
My eyes snag on the med list: long-term prednisone for rheumatoid arthritis. Steroids. No wonder the last scan showed thin bone stock. I make a quick note in the surgical plan for Nate to see:Watch acetabular rim for poor bone quality. If cup not stable, consider augments or cage system. Possible graft.
I lean back, scrubbing a hand down my face. Peck’s done his share of tough hips, but this one’s a bear. I attach my notes, add the images, and type a message:
Thanks again for picking these up. I owe you big time. Next time you want a day off, I’ll cover every one of your knees without blinking. I’ll be back Saturday afternoon, but call me anytime if you need to talk through a case or want another set of eyes. Available by phone if anything crops up.
