Claire reached out to put a hand on his arm. “That you’ll make a full recovery,” she said, looking him firmly in the eye. “And you’ll be back in the studio before you know it. Just give yourself a solid month after we’re home, okay? No strenuous activity in the meantime. And then we’ve got you on some physical therapy for a few weeks. You’re going to have to deal with the media a bit, too, because you’re the biggest news story anywhere right now. You can’t walk down the street without hearing someone talking about it.” She took a breath, then gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry about a thing. All the media and court stuff, I’ll handle. You’re going to be okay.”
You’re going to be okay.He didn’t know if that would ever be true again. There was a huge segment of his life that he couldn’t share with Claire, and she was here, trying to console him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “That you had to endure all this. I know that—”
She waved her hand at him. “Don’t you dare start apologizing. Just let me be relieved.”
You don’t even know the half of it,he thought, aching to tell her everything. Instead, he just said, “And Ashley?” He squinted questioningly up at her, heart in his throat. “Is she…”
“Last I heard, she left the city to check in with her family.” Claire nodded. “She wasn’t being treated here. Don’t worry, though. She said she’d be back.”
Her family. Sydney had most definitely lied to Claire about what had happened—but at least it sounded like she’d made a faster recovery than Winter. He could still see her blue lips, her body writhing in pain.
Panacea might have brought their own doctors for Sydney. She might not even be in the country anymore. But her words relieved some of the building pressure in Winter’s chest. At least she’d made it.
What if she’d returned to the States without him? The realizationstartled him. What if she had to leave without telling him goodbye? What if he never saw her again?
“I’m not worried,” he said.
“Oh, I think you’re a little worried.” Claire smiled briefly at him. “Something happened between you two, and don’t think you can keep that from me.” She straightened, and her smile wavered. “But she’s not why I came in here to see you.”
“Why?” Winter looked at her. “What’s going on?”
“There’s someone in the waiting room who has been here for a while, waiting for you to wake up again.”
Winter glanced up at her. She gave him a quiet nod.
“Your mother, Winter.”
Oh.
He felt heat flush his cheeks, followed by a wave of terror. Of all the people he’d expected to come visit, he hadn’t even considered his mother.
“I promised her I’d let her know the instant you were awake.” Claire sounded unsure now. “Do you want to see her?”
I’m not ready.The truth echoed inside him. He was still unsteady from the conversation with Leo, still not quite able to take in everything that had happened.
But he found himself nodding. “Of course.” The answer sounded mechanical, his urgency fake. A son was supposed to be happy to see his mother, wasn’t he?
Claire nodded at him, doubt still in her eyes, before rising and patting his shoulder once. “I’ll be back,” she said to him. “We have a lot more to discuss about your next steps.” She quieted, and her voice turned somber. “But take your time, understand? Let me handle the rest.”
He didn’t want Claire to leave the room yet, and his lips parted, wanting to ask her to stay a little longer, but then she was gone, heels clicking. He heard a low murmur of voices outside. The sound of someone that made him sit up more stiffly in bed.
And then a new silhouette was standing in the doorway, her hair asstraight and neatly pinned as ever, the white pearls around her neck, the collar tucked behind her sweater ironed and starched.
She hesitated at the doorway as their eyes met. “Baby bear,” she said.
“Hi, Mom,” he replied, his throat dry.
She stepped in hesitantly, her eyes darting momentarily to the windows as the chants rose and fell again, and then came over to stand awkwardly at the foot of his bed. Her hands folded in front of her, fumbling for a moment before grabbing each other for support.
It took her a few long seconds before she seemed to will herself to bend toward him and give him an awkward hug.
“You look pale,” she said in a soft voice, her eyes searching his face.
“I’m doing okay,” he replied. He forced his legs to curl up a bit, making room at the foot of the bed, smoothing the bedsheet because he knew she couldn’t sit on wrinkles. “Here, Mom. There’s plenty of space.”
“Meí shì. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” she said, even as she slowly seated herself at the farthest edge, as if the bed was forcing them into close proximity.
The quiet gathered thick between them. It was how Winter always felt in her presence—like a child, no matter how old he got, like he could never quite escape the feeling of being small and hungry for her acceptance. Even now, he could feel his brain revving up, spinning nervously for what he could share with her in the hopes that it might make her proud for a moment.
