Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“You look ready to bolt.” Maddy approached me from the left. I was leaning against the wall in my parents’ lounge, where we usually congregated when we had parties. There were about twenty-five people there—more than I’d expected and definitely more than I wanted to deal with. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked when I didn’t respond.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I turned to her and smiled, hoping it was a believable one.
“You don’t look fine.”
I lost a patient today. He coded, and I couldn’t get him back, and it always eats me up inside. I don’t want to be here. I want to be with Ryder, cooking dinner and laughing and trying to pretend this day never happened.
The thought made the nausea in my gut churn more. What would she think if she knew? How much would it hurt her?
“You know, you’re dangerously close to pulling a Mom-and-Dad here. Are you trying to tell me I look like shit?” I said playfully, raising a brow.
“Brat.” She swatted my arm, and the two of us chuckled. “Seriously, though…I worry about you sometimes. You’re just… I feel like our family has spent a lifetime worrying about me and my health, and in the meantime, you’ve slipped through the cracks. But know that I always have your back, and I’m always thinking of you.”
I hesitated, unsure how to respond. I didn’t know where all this was coming from. It wasn’t as if we’d never had serious talks or she hadn’t seen things in me before, but not to this level and not so out of the blue. “All this because I had a long day at work?” I played it off.
“No, all this because…well, because I’m working on some things and it’s about time.”
Before we had a chance to continue, Mom, Dad, and a few of their friends were heading our way.
“What are you doing in the corner, sillies?” Mom asked. “Grant, did you wish your father happy birthday?”
“I did.”
“I didn’t,” Maddy added.
Mom’s gaze went toward my sister, slightly wide-eyed with bewilderment—that she’d said what she said or because she hadn’t spoken to Dad yet, I wasn’t sure.
“Happy birthday, Daddy.” Maddy hugged him.
“Thanks, sweet pea. You both remember the Johnsons and the Reesers, don’t you?”
We said our hellos to their friends. We’d seen them at many events and parties over the years, so I wasn’t sure how we could have forgotten them.
The group of us chatted about business and things going on around Atlanta before Chuck Johnson asked, “No date tonight, Grant?”
“Hutch,” I replied, even though I knew it bothered my father. Grant had never felt like me, not really. Grant Hutchinson the Third was the son my dad wanted me to be, the one who was exactly like him and did everything he said. “And nope. All alone.”
“You know…my daughter still mentions you. We always thought the two of you—”
“Hush, Chuck! Amy will kill you if she knew you said anything,” Mrs. Johnson told her husband.
“I’m just saying, they’re both in their thirties, unmarried, into medicine…”
“Amy just published an article on a new cancer treatment, didn’t she?” Dad asked. When the Johnsons nodded, he added, “That’s incredible. I’m sure you’re so proud. Amy has the ability to help so many people.” Unlike me? I wondered… “You always liked Amy, Grant.”
I did. She was a nice woman and a good physician. She was beautiful and funny, and maybe if my father wasn’t trying to set me up with his friends’ daughter so I could fit into some ridiculous mold he envisioned for me, and maybe if there was no Ryder…
My chest ached. I rubbed a hand over it, knowing what it was and that I should do something about it.
Ryder shouldn’t be part of the equation.
Ryder could never happen.
But I wanted him to. For the first time in my life, I wanted a relationship to last.
“Amy is great. Anyone would be lucky to date her, but I’m not looking for that right now.”
Maddy frowned my way, but I ignored it.
“Grant’s determined to fight growing up and being an adult.” My dad laughed as if I wasn’t there. “It was different when we were young. We took our lives and responsibilities differently than this generation does.” He looked at Mom. “Not that you were a responsibility. I knew you were special the moment I met you, but you guys know what I mean.”
The group agreed, then continued to talk about the generational divide and how my mom just wanted me to settle down with a nice woman—or man; she didn’t care which as long as I gave her grandbabies—and they all laughed. At least I didn’t have to worry about them being homophobic.
Still, I shifted uncomfortably as they spoke.
When I looked at Maddy, I wondered how she felt too, because she couldn’t have kids—her treatments had ruined that.