“On you, Mom,” I said.
“Neither of my injured limbs can move yet.”
“And they want to fix that,” I said.
“It seems too early,” she grumbled.
“You can tell the doctor that,” I said.
“Maybe I will,” she said.
I lay in bed that night staring at my phone. Nate’s name was pulled up on the screen, and the Call button was staring back at me. That little outline of a phone telling me that if I pushedon it, I could talk to someone. Someone who until last week cared about me. I could vent about my day. I needed to vent. I knew that’s all I needed and that wanting to call Nate now was selfish. Nate wasn’t good at handling vents anyway, I reminded myself. He’d just try to solve my problems. He’d tell me to hire a full-time nurse for my mom, even though I didn’t have the money for that. Our restaurant wasn’t losing money, but it wasn’t making much either. We were definitely still in the building phase. The fragile stage.
Nate would tell me to call my dad and ask for money. I hadn’t even done that when we were starting our business. Raya’s parents had come through in the end for the full amount we needed, thankfully. Because I knew my dad: He could’ve been sitting on a dragon’s hoard of wealth and he’d still claim poverty. And he’d do it in the most smooth-talking way possible so that by the end of the conversation, I’d be tempted to sendhimmoney. That’s who he was.
I put my phone down before my body pushed the Call button, and Nate appeared on my phone without my mind agreeing to it. I rolled onto my side. My brain immediately took over, thinking of all the things I needed to do the next day and the things I’d done wrong in the last few weeks.
And then a set of hazel eyes flashed through my mind. I cursed Dr. Franklin for the five-minute stare-offs she’d assigned us. I wouldn’t know his eyes so well if I hadn’t stared at them for a total of ten minutes in the last week. That was a long time to look at someone’s eyes. I needed to avoid them from now on if I could, because having them invade my thoughts at midnight was not something I was fond of.
I closed my eyes and tried to think of anything else.
CHAPTER 9
The physical therapist was young and handsome, and I was grateful for it because it put my mom on her best behavior. Everyone wanted to impress a young, handsome doctor, including her. Right now, she was laughing at a joke he told that wasn’t all that funny. Something about a two-legged dog. Was he comparing my mom to a dog?
“Sutton,” he said, pulling me out of my head.
“Yes?”
“I’ll have her for an hour. You can stay, of course, but you can also walk the grounds or run some errands, or I don’t know, read in your car.”
“Sutton’s not really a reader. She only does things she puts on her little list,” Mom said.
I lowered my brow but bit my tongue. “I’ll be back in an hour,” I said.
“I’ll take care of her.”
That sounded like a threat, which made me smile on my way out the door.
It was nearly lunchtime and I hadn’t eaten all morning. I headed for the cafeteria. Some people stuck their noses up at hospital food, but this particular hospital was actually known for its above-average offerings and its below-average prices.
The line to order wasn’t long, and as I was walking toward it, I saw Tara at one of the tables in her scrubs. I knew she was a nurse, of course. I hadn’t realized this was her hospital.
Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Sutton, what are you doing here?” The second she asked it, before I could even answer, she said, “Oh, your mom. How is she?”
I pointed up, indicating the floor above us. “She’s in physical therapy as we speak.”
“That’s a good sign.”
“Is it?”
“Means she’s on the mend, right?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Are you eating here?” she asked.
“Figured I’d grab something.”
