Well Played, стр. 24

Eight

January brought enough snow that some days I had to leave for work a good fifteen minutes earlier so I could scrape off the car and warm it up. On those days I didn’t have time for my mother to call when I was on my way out the door. Which was, of course, exactly when the landline on my wall rang. Mom’s direct line to me when she wanted to talk.

“Ugh, Mom!” I tried to let out all the frustration in that one growl under my breath before I picked up the phone so she wouldn’t hear it in my voice. She knew my schedule; this was not a good time to talk. I blew out all the negativity and picked up the receiver.

“Hey, Mom.” There. My voice was nice and light and breezy. Typical Stacey. “I’m on my way to work, can’t really talk. Can I drop by tonight?”

“Hey, Princess.” I froze at the sound of my dad’s voice. He never called; he wasn’t a phone guy. We usually communicated by him telling Mom to tell me something, and me telling her what to tell him back. So his voice on the phone was the first alarm bell in my head. The second was the hesitant, tired way he spoke. He’d said only two words, but he sounded just like he had the day he’d called me from the hospital, that first time that Mom had . . .

“Dad? What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” Forming words was harder than usual. My mouth didn’t seem to want to work right.

“Everything’s fine. We’re at the hospital—”

I dropped my backpack purse to the floor, and I was lucky I didn’t fumble the phone as well. “If you’re at the hospital, everything is not fine. Is it Mom?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. She wasn’t feeling right last night, so we went to the emergency room. They took her right in, and—”

“Last night?” I screeched. “And you’re just calling me now?” I started mentally flicking through the schedule at work. Was it a full day? How screwed would they be if I called in, and how much did I care? Not too much, I decided, and not at all.

“You know your mother.” Dad’s voice broke through my scrambling thoughts. “She wouldn’t let me call you until morning. She didn’t want you to worry.”

“Okay, but I’m worried now. Look, let me call in to work real quick, and I can be at the hospital in about fifteen minutes.”

“No, no. Don’t do that, your mother will kill me. I wasn’t supposed to call you till they’ve finished running tests. Just go to work, and keep your phone on you if you can, okay? I know you’re not supposed to . . .”

“Oh, the hell with that,” I said. “I’ll keep my phone in my pocket, and they can fire me if they don’t like it. You call me the second you hear something, okay?”

I barely remembered the drive to work. My mind was five years in the past, replaying that first phone call from my dad from the emergency room. He’d tried to downplay Mom’s condition and his worry, but that time he hadn’t stopped me from joining him at the hospital. That itself was what made me go to work that day. Mom never wanted me to worry, but Dad had a hard time going through this stuff alone. We’d clocked lots of hours together, side by side in waiting rooms. Once Mom was okay we went back to basically talking through her, but during a crisis he needed me.

So the fact that he didn’t need me today was encouraging. But I still took my phone out of my backpack when I got to work and turned it to vibrate. I was about to slip it into my pocket when instead I unlocked it. Before I had a chance to think about it, I sent a text to Dex. Mom’s in the hospital. I wasn’t sure why I did it; we didn’t usually text during the day. Our time was at night. But I felt like I had to tell someone, and no one else in my immediate circle knew my history with my mom’s health. Not on the level that I’d told Dex about it. So I sent that text and then slipped my phone into my pocket.

Almost immediately it vibrated and I dug it out, expecting it to be Dad with an update. But to my surprise, it was Dex. Oh shit. Is she okay?

I don’t know yet, I responded. Dad’s going to update me as soon as he knows. I’m at work. I winced as I hit Send. When I wrote it out like that, I looked like a real jerk. Why had I gone to work today? I should have been with my parents.

But Dex’s response didn’t judge me. I’m sure he’ll let you know something soon. I’d tell you not to worry, but of course you’re worried. Let me know if you need distraction.

I’ll definitely need distraction. Just no dick pics, okay?

Ha! Not exactly my style.

I blinked at that. Dick pics were a hundred percent Dex’s style. In fact, I was frankly surprised that he had