Sanders launches into my truck like a pinball, all elbows and knees and Christmas energy. His backpack hits the floorboard with a thud.
“I rocked it up there last night, huh, Dad?”
“You were perfect, Dude. Could hear you over the entire class.”
His grin splits his face wide open. God, he looks just like his mom when he smiles like that. The single dimple on his right cheek gives him away every time.
I back out of Lane's driveway, glancing at the house in my rearview mirror. Even after all these years, it still feels like my home. I let her have it in the divorce.
I notice the porch light’s still on. That used to drive me crazy when we were married. Wasteful, I’d say. Careless, she’d argue.
"So what's the plan this weekend?" Sanders buckles his seatbelt, still buzzing. "Can we go to the mall? I was hoping we could check out the new video game store that just opened."
"Absolutely. We'll hit the mall, grab some lunch?—"
My phone vibrates against the console. The screen lights up with a number I recognize all too well. Cape Fear Regional.
"Shit."
"Dad? Is everything okay?"
"Hold on, Bud. I need to take this."
I answer on the third ring. "Dr. Beamer."
"Dr. Beamer, sorry to bother you. We've got a problem with Mrs. Henderson. The knee replacement from yesterday. She's spiking a fever, white count's elevated. Dr. Peck thinks we might be looking at an infection."
My jaw clenches. Mrs. Henderson is seventy-two, diabetic, high risk for complications. If it's an infection in the joint, she'll need another surgery. Stat.
"What's her temp?"
"102.3 and climbing. Blood cultures are pending, but Peck wants you to take a look."
I glance at Sanders, who's watching me with those sharp hazel eyes. He knows that look on my face. He's seen it a thousand times.
Two hours. Maybe three if we need to go back in.
"I'll be there in twenty."
I hang up and catch Sanders' reflection in the side mirror. His shoulders have sagged just a little.
"Work?" His voice is careful, neutral. Too neutral for a nine-year-old.
“Yeah, but it won’t take long. Promise. We’ll still hit the mall this afternoon. Deal?”
Another promise I might not be able to keep. Story of my life.
I should call Lane to see if she wants me to drop Sanders back off while I handle this. But screw that. The last thing I need is to hear her chastisingme. What she doesn't know won't kill her. Sanders and I have this covered.
“It’ll only be a few hours,” I say again, mostly to convince myself.
Sanders nods and puts the small gold chain he's just recently started wearing in his mouth. "Can I have your phone while you're working?"
"Of course, Big Guy."
I turn toward the hospital, that familiar weight settling in my chest.
Cape Fear Regional rises above the riverfront, all glass and steel, like it’s daring the salt air to corrode it. The parking garage hums with traffic, heavy with the sharp mix of exhaust, brine, and wet concrete—that particular hospital cocktail that clings to my scrubs long after I’ve gone home.
