“Good,” I answer, kissing her cheek. “Because I’m not going anywhere until you’re discharged.”
I texted my boss, Ed, on the way here, giving him a heads-up that I won’t be in to work for a few days. Having lost his mom last year, I know he’ll understand why I need to be here.
“I’m l-looking forward to it, my sweet girl,” Mama says.
My eyes sting with tears. “You really had me worried.”
She reaches out a trembling hand and squeezes mine. “Don’t w-worry. I intend to be around for a while yet.”
Her reassurance eases the tightness in my chest. Despite all the challenges we’ve faced since her diagnosis, we’re extremely lucky she’s with us—able to speak, laugh, and do the things she loves, even if in a modified way.
She glances toward the door with a furrowed brow. “Where’s your father?”
“He’s speaking with Walker, but they should be in soon.”
“Walker H-Halstead?”
“Yeah, he’s who drove me here. We’re kind of dating,” I blurt, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “It’s a little complicated, which is why I didn’t mention it sooner. But I promise, once you’re feeling better, I’ll tell you everything.”
Mama opens her mouth to speak, but stops, as if reconsidering.
If she has questions or reservations about Walker and me, I have no doubt she’ll voice them when she’s ready. The truth is, I don’t have any answers right now anyway. Walker and I only confessed our feelings yesterday. There hasn’t been time to talk about the future or what any of this means. All I know is that we want to be together, and right now, that’s more than enough.
I get off the bed and tug the blankets tighter around Mama. “I’m going to check and see what’s taking the guys so long. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay,” she says, biting her lip.
I glance into the hallway, frowning when I don’t see Dad or Walker. I head to the waiting area at the end of the wing, and when I turn the corner, I find them standing next to the snack station beside a row of chairs. They’re alone—Dad’s brow is drawn tight, and Walker’s stare is unwavering. They’re so absorbed in their discussion that they don’t seem to notice me.
Curiosity prickles as I drift closer, trying to eavesdrop without giving myself away.
“I’m not hiding this from Birdie anymore,” Walker insists, irritation edging his voice. “She deserves the truth, and I’m done keeping secrets from her.”
Dad takes off his cowboy hat and rakes a hand through his hair. “She might not take it well.”
“You won’t know unless you give her the chance,” Walker counters. “She has my full support—and her friends’ too—but they can’t be there for her if they don’t understand everything she’s been through, and that includes coping with her mom’s Parkinson’s.”
How does he…?
Alarm bells ring in my head as I recall his earlier comment about not wanting any more secrets between us—implying he’s kept something from me. Unwilling to endure the suspense any longer, I step forward, determined to get to the bottom of this.
I move to stand between Walker and my dad. “How do you know about my mom’s diagnosis?”
They both freeze like deer caught in headlights.
Walker recovers first, clearing his throat before turning to my dad. “Sheriff Matterson, could I have a minute alone with Birdie?”
My dad hesitates before nodding. “Yeah, I think it’s best if you two talk first.” He turns to me with a somber expression. “Just remember, every decision I’ve made has been out of love for you and your mother, and I’ve done my best, given our situation.”
I hesitate, taking him in. His eyes plead silently for me to keep an open mind, yet all I feel is confusion.
“I know, Dad, and I love you too,” I whisper.
He leans in and presses a kiss to my temple before walking away. As he rounds the corner and disappears from view, Walker looks at me, his shoulders slouched and lips pressed into a thin line, guilt written across his face.
He gestures to a nearby bench. “Mind if we sit?”
I wring my hands. “Sure.”
