“Are you okay?” Jonah asks, his voice low and hesitant.
“Everyone in this family is keeping something from me, so no, Jonah. I am not fucking okay.”
His eyes dart to me and back to the road. “Not Maisy.”
I suck in a breath and stare at him. What the hell? My body trembles with barely restrained frustration, needing a target. “I swear to fucking God, Jonah?—”
His hand lands on my arm. Strong and sure. “Sorry. That was supposed to be a joke.”
“A joke?” I ask, my voice rising higher.
Jonah squeezes my arm, his eyes checking the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry.”
Going off on him won’t help. I swallow the lump in my throat and take a deep breath. When I can talk without yelling, I ask in a low voice, “What’s going on with my mom?”
He watches me for a moment. “I don’t know.”
And that’s it. I’m done. “Stop fucking lying to me.” On any other day, it would be laughable. The amount of lies I’ve told him alone…but this isn’t any other day.
“Stop yelling at me,” he counters, “and I’ll tell you what I do know.”
“I’m not— Fine. I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” His voice is teasing, and I just can’t handle that right now. The way he kissed me. Took charge…nope.
The mountains in the background are dark and majestic, and they remind me of Jonah and the look on his face at the Pride parade. As if he’d scorch the earth to save me. I press my palm against my eyes.
“Vivian?”
I nod, afraid to open my mouth in case all my thoughts spill out.
He releases my arm, and I feel the loss immediately. But he needs his hands to drive, so I wait as he takes a breath and then another. “Remember when I detailed the car?”
I remember after—changing the oil, his hands guiding mine. Nope, not going there. “Yes. Of course.”
“When I got back, Dad and your mom were leaving. He said they were going to the”—his voice drops even lower—“doctor.”
“What?” I ask way too loudly. He motions for me to keep it down, but it’s not easy when I want to scream at everyone.
“He said it was routine. But it didn’t feel routine.”
“Is she going to—” I can’t even put my thoughts into words. “It must be bad if they aren’t telling us, right?”
“I don’t know. And I hate that they’re keeping it a secret. We should just ask them.”
“I agree. But not yet.” Mom’s sleeping peacefully. And truthfully? I’m a fucking coward. If it’s bad news, I don’t want to hear it. Not yet.
“I’m sorry.” He takes my hand and squeezes. And when he tries to let go, I hold on.
It’s late by the time we get to Durango. And since we didn’t call for a late check-in—Mom takes care of those things—we get whatever they have available. Mom doesn’t say anything as we’re unloading the car, which is unusual in itself, but then her eyes go wide, and she rushes to a row of bushes and throws up.
Dad stays with her until she’s done. “I’m taking Carolynda to the room. Can you boys take care of everything?” He nods to the van and Maisy.
“We’ve got it, Dad.”
He nods and guides her to the door.
I stare after them, fear paralyzing me. What if it’s as bad as I think?
