Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79607 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I pause my pacing, and even though the words aren’t coming from her, my heart starts to pound harder at the thought. I know he doesn’t mean like a brother or a friend, or he wouldn’t be upset at the idea.
“Yeah, well, I fucked that up.”
Why couldn’t I have just walked away? My actions caused this.
I take a seat two chairs away from him, with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. My phone rings again, and I silence it. Not a second later, Natalia comes barging through the doors like a bat out of hell. She’s still in her party dress, but her shoes dangle from her fingers.
“Where is she? Is she okay? Have you heard anything? They need better fucking parking. It took me ten minutes to find a spot. That’s not really conducive to an emergency situation,” she yells.
Annnnd, the motor mouth is back.
“Calm down, turbo. She’s awake, but we aren’t allowed to go back yet,” I say, dropping my head back down.
“She’s awake,” she repeats, equal parts shock and relief lacing her Dash tone. “Thank fuck.” Natalia tosses her shoes underneath the chair between Dash and me before collapsing into it like a sack of potatoes.
My phone goes off again from my pocket, and this time I’m ready to kill whoever is calling me. I check the screen—it’s a private number.
“What?” I bark into the phone.
“Hi, yes, may I speak with Asher Kelley?” a man’s deep voice asks.
“This is a bad fucking time. Whatever you’re selling I’m not interested.” I almost hang up, but his next words stop me.
“It’s about your father. John Kelley? This is Doctor DuCane from Banner North. I need you to come to the hospital.” His voice is firm, but somehow soft, and deep down, I already know what’s coming.
“I, uh, I’m actually here already,” I say, plugging one ear with my finger and angling my body away from Dash and Natalia. “Is he okay?”
“Oh,” he says, sounding surprised. “Where are you? I’d like to come speak with you personally.”
The burning dread that had lessened to warm coals is back with a vengeance with each passing second.
“I’m in the emergency waiting room. Is he dead?” I ask bluntly, cutting to the chase. “Just fucking tell me.”
I feel two sets of concerned eyes on me, but I ignore them both. I don’t need anyone’s pity, and I don’t need this fucking doctor to come hold my hand.
“I’m on my way to you now,” is all he says. I hang up the phone, flipping it around in my hands without looking up.
“Everything all right, man?” Dash asks tentatively.
I don’t respond.
“Asher?” This time it’s Natalia’s worried voice.
“I’m fine.” My harsh tone is enough to shut down any further questions. We sit in tense silence for I don’t know how long before a man in a white coat calls my name.
“Asher Kelley?” His eyes scan the room. There aren’t many people in here, which is unheard of for a weekend. A couple of moms and their sick kids, an elderly couple, and us. I stand, stuffing my hands into my front pockets.
“Is this your family?” he asks.
“No,” I say at the same time Dash says, “Yes.”
The doctor looks confused, but doesn’t press.
“Can you both come with me?”
Dash hesitates, looking back at Natalia, and she assures him that she’ll call him if there is any news on Briar. He nods, and we follow Dr. Bad News to a private room.
The room has a couple of chairs, a coffee table with magazines, a TV, and some miscellaneous games for kids, but is otherwise empty.
“Can you tell me what you know of your father’s condition?” he starts.
“He has liver failure.” I scratch at the stubble on my jaw. “That’s about all I know.”
“Yes. His condition has been worsening over the past couple of weeks. Were you aware?”
I clench my jaw. He didn’t tell me that. He didn’t even hint at it.
“No,” I say through gritted teeth.
“His nurse found him when she went in for her shift.”
“His nurse?” I ask, my eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Maybe he has the wrong guy. “My father didn’t have a nurse.”
“He finally agreed to hospice care about a week ago. He didn’t tell you that, either?”
“No, I guess not.”
He steps forward, his hand coming down to my shoulder. I stare at it. He continues, “We did everything we could. Unfortunately, his cirrhosis was too advanced.”
He keeps speaking, but I don’t hear the words. “We did everything we could.” Everyone knows what that means.
At some point, Dash starts answering for me, though I still can’t make out any of their conversation. My mom is dead. My dad is dead. Briar is lying, hurt, somewhere in this hospital. And the common denominator is me.
“Would you like to see him?” The doctor’s voice breaks through my thoughts. I shake my head. What’s the point, right? He’s dead.