Page 108 of When the Smoke Clears

“They found you in another room. You’re not supposed to walk unassisted. You need to press this button to call for help.”

“I was going to see Jenny.”

Fuck. When I glance at Mom, she’s standing with her back to us, hands balled at her sides for a few seconds before she opens the door.

“Wait,” I say to her.

Her shoulders lift in a deep inhale. I know this is a lot. Maybe too much.

“Here.” I fish my Bronco key out of my pocket and wedge myself between her and the door since she refuses to look in my dad’s direction. There’s a tissue box next to me on the counter by the sink. I grab one and use it to wipe her tears. “He’s unwell,” I whisper. “Go home. You need a break from all of this. I’ll get a ride.”

She stares at her feet and sniffles while returning a tiny nod. I kiss the top of her head before stepping aside so she can leave. Before I sit in the chair, Dad drifts off to sleep.

I don’t want my dad to die, but I hate this. I hate it for him. Hate it for my mom. I fucking hate all of it.

After watching my dad sleep for two hours, I kiss him on the forehead next to his strawberry abrasions and whisper, “I love you.” Then I grab a ride home, pondering what I can say to my mom to make her feel less crushed over my dad’s interaction with another woman right in front of her.

But when the car approaches their place, my planned speech evaporates because there’s a shiny red Ford F-150 parked in the driveway. Everleigh’s new truck that she uses to pull her Airstream. I barely get “thanks” out of my mouth before flying from the car to the front door.

The good news? When my mom looks at me from her favorite blue-and-white striped swivel chair, I no longer detect anger over my father. Just the opposite. It’s like she just discovered the fountain of youth and hasn’t had a chance to tell anyone.

Next to her on the sofa, Everleigh smiles at me. She has her legs tucked beneath her, hands cupping a hot drink.

“Why didn’t you tell me you invited your friend for the week?” Mom asks with a twinkle in her eyes.

“Well”—I shift my gaze to Everleigh, who hides her grin behind her mug before taking a sip—“I didn’t have a chance to mention it. I thought I had time. After all, I just got here today. And I thought my friend would come later this week, like in a few days. In fact, I hadn’t even given her the address.” I step behind the kitchen island to wash my hands.

Everleigh sets her mug on the end table. “I know you like surprises, so I thought I’d come today.”

“I don’t like surprises,” I say.

“Well, I’m so glad you’re here. William, I was just telling Everleigh how I met your father. She didn’t know we’re twenty years apart in age.”

I toss the towel aside, eyeing Everleigh the whole time. And she doesn’t shy away from my narrow-eyed gaze.

“The Landry men like their women young,” Everleigh says.

Mom’s eyes widen. “Oh! Are you and Will—”

“I don’t think that’s an accurate statement,” I say, sitting at the opposite end of the sofa, propping my ankle on my opposing knee. “Everleigh is a psychiatrist. She’s fascinated by human behavior.”

“I met William eleven years ago at Tyler and Victoria’s wedding. Do you know them?” she asks my mom.

This is too much. What was I thinking when I invited her? Perhaps I was thinking I’d have a few days to prepare my mom for her arrival.

“Yes, of course. Thatcher and I were visiting my mom in Florida, so we missed the wedding. Did you go to medical school with Victoria?”

Everleigh nods. “I did.”

“And now you’re working in Missoula with Jamie. What a small world.”

It’s not that small. Clearly Everleigh has left out the part where she moved to Missoula to stalk me for years.

I glance at my watch. “It’s past three. Are you already checked into your hotel?” I ask Everleigh.

“Hotel?” Mom laughs. “Darling, I already have her settled into the guest room across from yours.”

Everleigh rolls her lips together and gives me an innocent one-shouldered shrug.