The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (34 page)

“Shit.” I put the cup down with a clunk and it splashed hot coffee over the edge. “It’s Monday.”

Reid jumped up to get a rag. “It is,” he said. “What’s happening Monday?”
 

“I usually get called in to teach and the board is going to make a decision soon, which means—” I dropped my head in my hands. “Which means they must have changed their mind and I didn’t get the job.” I tugged lightly at the roots of my hair. “And I didn’t even get to the lifestyle questionnaire.”
 

“The what?”
 

“The lifestyle questionnaire,” I said. “Supposedly it’s part of the hiring process. They ask you questions about—”

“Your lifestyle?” Reid sat back and crossed his leg over his knee. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t even know if it’s real or not,” I said. “It’s just a rumor but if they did ask it, I’d fail.”

“How would you fail?”

I let out a deep sigh. “You,” I said. “Apparently they frown upon men and women living together who aren’t married.”

Reid’s eyes grew wide and his face took on a “yeah right” expression.

“It’s true,” I said. “Well, I think it’s true. William said it was true. And that was before he knew the truth about my mother.”

As I knew it would, Reid’s face twisted at the mention of William and he said, “So what? Even if it is true and there really is a lifestyle questionnaire.” He used air quotes and rolled his eyes. “Screw it.”

“Pardon me? I need that job.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t need any job or anybody who doesn’t accept you for you.”

I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms.
 

I didn’t say anything right away because there was nothing to say. He was right. And I knew it. I also knew he wasn’t just talking about the school, either. I let out another sigh, and didn’t look at him when I said, “I still need a job, Reid.”
 

“There are other jobs,” he said. I knew he was frustrated with me. Maybe even disappointed. But the thought of not looking at those eager little faces while I filled their heads with knowledge was too much. And there were other schools, but it would take too long to get established in the public school system. “You can teach somewhere else,” Reid said. “Or maybe do something besides teaching.”

That got my attention. I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Like what?” I asked, because clearly he had something in mind.

“Songwriting.”
 

“Like you?” I tried not to laugh. I was hardly a songwriter.
 

“Yes, like me.” He crossed his arms, but he didn’t look mad. Not really. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. For you. But I’m not a songwriter, Reid.” I shook my head. It was too much. I couldn’t think about doing anything else. Not with Grams in the hospital and everything hanging by a thread.

“You could be,” he said. “That song you wrote—”

“You mean the poem I wrote.” I pushed up away from the table. “Just stop, Reid. There’s a big difference between poetry and lyrics. I write as a way to clear my head, to get it out. I never wanted anyone to see them.” I looked him in the eyes. “And I certainly never asked anyone to sing them.”
 

I knew it would hurt him. That was the point. I wanted to hurt him with my words, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. Reid’s face fell and my instinct was to go to him, kiss his cheek and tell him I was sorry, that I didn’t mean it.
 

“I didn’t know that’s how you felt,” he said slowly.
 

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t how I felt at all. That listening to him sing my song, our song, was the sweetest, most intense moment of my life and it woke something inside me. “Well, I do,” I said instead, because it also scared the hell out of me. “You shouldn’t have done that,” I whispered. It was too much. I couldn’t look at him. Not when I knew the hurt I’d see in his eyes was caused by me. And for what? To keep myself from reaching out, I turned away.
 

“Whit.” He spoke softly, and I could hear him coming closer. “Don’t do this.”
 

I bit back the tears that threatened again. “Everything’s so confused right now,” I said. “And you’re trying to make me into something I’m not. You were right to walk away last night.”

“I’m not. And I wasn’t.” His hand rested on my back and my body responded the way it always did when he touched me. I wanted to tell him I was sorry, to tell him I didn’t mean it. But something stopped me. “Last night I was surprised, and I don’t like that you didn’t tell me everything about William, but it doesn’t matter because I love you. And I’m not trying to change you into something else, you’re wrong about that. Whitney, I love you exactly the way you are.”

I froze. My heart ceased to beat for an instant. A buzz, like white noise filled my head. I turned then, slowly, because I didn’t trust my body to hold me upright.
 

“What?” I whispered, not sure I actually said the word aloud.

“Whit, I do.” He reached out, his fingers trailing down my cheek before cupping my face with so much tenderness, I almost broke. “You’re amazing, and strong and—”

“Stop.”
 

“No,” he said. “It’s true. I know it’s bad timing and we both have a million other complications in our life right now.”
 

I shook my head, trying desperately to clear the confusion swirling through it. Complications was an understatement. How could I be with Reid, a struggling musician, when I didn’t even know if I had a job? Wasn’t that just trading one problem for another? Grams said stability wasn’t the most important thing, but…it was still a thing. An important thing. Love didn’t pay the bills.
 

My brain stumbled over the word. Love. Was that what it was? The sick, swirling feeling in my stomach. The jumble of thoughts racing through my head. Was it love?

“But I also know how I feel.” Reid was still talking, my mind struggled to catch up. “And I’m pretty sure you feel the same way. And—”

“Reid. I can’t—”

“Don’t say it.” He dropped his hand to my arm and I wished he would just pull me tight and make everything else go away. And that terrified me. “Tell me you feel the same way, Whitney.”
 

My mouth opened, and then shut again. Everything was happening so fast and my sleep-deprived brain couldn’t keep up. I knew I was screwing up. I knew that this man, the only man who’d ever known everything about me and loved me in spite of it, or maybe because of it, was standing in front of me waiting for an answer. And I couldn’t give it to him. I looked down at my feet because it was easier than looking at the hurt in his eyes.
 

Reid pulled his hand away, and, as if it’d been giving me strength, the moment was gone and the fatigue of the past twenty-four hours took over.
 

“I’m sorry, Reid,” I said softly. “I just don’t know if I can do this right now.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t ask me what I couldn’t do, or if we could talk about it later. He simply nodded his head. So I did the only other thing I could. It was my turn to walk away.

I could hear Reid in the kitchen cleaning up and putting dishes away. The clinking of the dishes and scraping of chairs on the floor soothed me. And if I closed my eyes, and forced thoughts of Reid out of my head, I could almost pretend it was Grams down there puttering in her kitchen. But it wasn’t. I sighed and rolled over to face the window. It was Reid. And he was probably down there hating me for the things I’d said and more for what I didn’t say.

With a groan, I pulled the covers over my head so I wouldn’t have to see the cloudy, grey day outside. I only had a few hours before I needed to be back at the hospital to meet with Dr. Abbott, and I was pretty sure there would be no sleeping. My notebook sat on the table next to the bed, so I grabbed it and flipped it open.
 

Moments apart feel like forever

Never thought I’d feel this way

I’m lost here in a dream

And I can’t wake to see the day

With a pencil in my hand, the time flew by and when I emerged from my room, Reid was no longer in the kitchen and his car was gone. I thought about leaving him a note, but what would I say? Before I could chicken out, I left my notebook on the counter, open to the page I’d just written. I couldn’t be sure he’d read it, but something told me he would.
 

Twenty minutes later, I stood in the door of Grams’ hospital room and watched, unsure if I should go in. Mom sat next to Grams, holding her hand. I watched, but Grams didn’t open her eyes.

I must have slipped or made a noise, or maybe she just sensed me because my mother turned around and saw me standing in the doorway.
 

“Whitney? What are you doing out there? Come in. Please,” she added.
 

I took a tentative step into the room. “I didn’t think…I wasn’t sure…after last night.”
 

My mom released Grams’ hand and got up from her chair. She looked exhausted as she approached me. She didn’t have her usual mask of make-up on and the dark smudges under her eyes made her look like she’d aged five years overnight. She put her hand on my arm and said, “Whitney, of course you should be here. You know that.”

“But after last night, what I did…” I took a deep breath and forced myself to say what I needed to say. “I disappointed you both,” I said with a glance towards Grams. “I never wanted to do that. You need to know that I’m not ashamed of you.”
 

“Whitney—”

“No, Mom.” I reached for her hand and squeezed. “I know it’s hard to believe that after last night, but with William I was trying to be someone I wasn’t. I was trying to make myself want something I didn’t really want. And, I’m sorry.” My thoughts flashed to Reid and everything he’d said to me. “I know now that isn’t me. It never was. And I’m still trying to figure things out, but I know that I love you and Grams more than anything else in the world and I never want to hurt you or disappoint you.” A tear slid down my cheek. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”

She looked at me and tilted her head. Slowly, she brought two fingers to her lips, kissed them and then used them to wipe away my tear. “Baby, you could never disappoint me. You’re a strong, beautiful woman and Grams has done an amazing job with you. I’ve never been much of a mother to you,” she said. “And I should be the one who’s sorry.”

“Mom—”

“I know, I know,” she said. “Our family is far from perfect, but we’re a family. Now get in here. Grams will be looking for you.”

I followed her farther in the room and sat in the chair she’d vacated and gestured for me to sit in. I only hesitated a second before taking Grams’ hand in mine. It had become much smaller and lighter in the last few days, if that was possible. What was it about hospitals that made people seem even sicker than they were?
 

“I’m just going to pop out for a coffee, okay?”

“Of course.”
 

“I’ll be right back. They have her pretty sedated,” my mom said. “The last time she woke up, she was pretty confused, so be prepared for anything.” I nodded and waited for her to leave before I turned back to Grams.

I watched her and waited for her eyes to open. Her chest rose with every shallow breath and after a few minutes, her eyelids fluttered and she blinked before she focused on me.

“Grams?” I rubbed her hand lightly, not wanting to startle her. “I’m here, Grams.”
 

“Whitney?” Grams’ voice cracked and I released her hand long enough to pour her a glass of water and hold the straw to her lips. “Why am I here?” she asked after taking a sip and having a chance to glance around.
 

“We’re going to see what’s going on.” I took her hand again and squeezed it reassuringly. “They ran some tests last night and Dr. Abbott will be here soon to let us know what the results are. Do you remember coming to the hospital last night?”

She shook her head and I had to look away. Seeing her so frail and confused broke me a little bit and I wasn’t sure how much more I could be broken and still be whole.
 

“It’ll be okay, Grams.” I blinked back my tears and swallowed the lie. “Everything will be okay.”

Her eyelashes fluttered and she closed her eyes again but I knew she wasn’t sleeping because her breathing didn’t change and she squeezed my hand. Just a little. But it was enough.

We sat like that for another few minutes before my mom slipped back into the room.
 

“How is she?”

Grams’ eyes popped open and a smile spread across her face. “Patricia.” She reached her other hand out and while I watched, my mom circled around the bed, pulled up an extra chair and held her mother’s hand. I looked, stunned, between them both. Dinner the night before seemed like it happened years earlier, but apparently whatever transpired between the two of them then and in the hours since was enough to bridge the gap of years of hurt and misunderstanding. I looked between them and my face relaxed into a small smile.
 

“I’m glad we’re all here,” I said.
 

“All together,” my mom said. She gave me a supportive smile and looked back to Grams. “How are you feeling today, Mom?”
 

Grams started to say something, but changed her mind. “It hurts,” she said. She looked at me apologetically and blinked hard.
 

“It’s okay, Grams. The doctor will be here any minute and we can talk about options. There’s got to be something. It won’t be too late.”

It was weak, but she shook her head. “No, Whitney.”
 

I looked to my mom. I knew she’d help me talk sense into her. There was no way I could sit by and let Grams suffer when there was something we could do. But my mom’s face was neutral and she wouldn’t look at me. “Mom. Tell her she needs treatment. Tell her this is ridiculous.” I looked between them both. Grams, despite the discomfort she was in, held her mouth in a stubborn line. Mom’s eyes were wet with unshed tears, but neither of them was saying anything.