Gia gave him a bug-eyed stare. Don’t rush things. “Next September.”
“Why September? Why not June?” Madison unpacked the groceries. “Shelley, go put on some decent clothes. Let’s get this show on the road before visiting hours end.”
Shelley hesitated as if she might argue, but then she shrugged and left the room.
Madison rolled her eyes again. “I swear, that woman—”
“Don’t,” Gia said so sharply that Madison stopped with a carton of eggs in her hands.
“Don’t what?”
“Pick on her. She’s doing the best she can.” Gia said.
Mike’s hand went to Gia’s neck, a gentle touch, a light massage, just letting her know that he was there, and that he had her back. It felt nice.
“Well, so am I.” Madison’s tone was flat as flint.
To smooth things over, Gia said, “Thank you for taking the quilt to the dry cleaners. I appreciate it.”
Madison sighed and stowed the eggs in the fridge. “Okay, okay, I’ll lighten up on her. But just for you.”
Gia beamed at her. “You’re the best.”
Shelley came back downstairs in white cargo pants and a blue tank top that used to be Madison’s.
Gia darted a quick glance at her oldest sister, who clamped her mouth shut. She pressed her palms together in front of her chest and mouthed, Thank you.
Madison’s face softened and for a moment, Gia saw the woman her sister used to be before everything fell apart. Her heart squeezed, and she thought, It’s okay to lie about being engaged if it gets Madison back to herself.
Justify it all you want. Still a lie.
Yes, but she was hip-deep in it now. No going back.
“Ladies”—Mike pulled a key fob from his pocket and started out the door—“your chariot awaits.”
“I definitely see the appeal,” Shelley murmured under her breath to Gia. “Nice ass.”
“Hey, hussy, stay in your own lane,” Madison grumbled, but in her voice, Gia heard a note of humor. Was Madison finally thawing?
She pressed her palms into prayer hands again, and this time Gia whispered a single word.
Please.
* * *
AT THE HOSPITAL, the neuro ICU nurse cornered them and gave a strict admonition. “Maximum two people at a time.”
The sisters looked at each other.
“You two go first,” Gia said. “Mike and I’ll wait.”
Madison looked as if she might argue at being saddled with Shelley, but she just pivoted and started through the double doors without looking back, leaving Shelley to hustle after her.
“You’ve got your work cut out for you,” Mike muttered.
“Maddie seems tough, but you don’t understand her like I do. Her heart is so tender, she’s built up a tall wall. She can’t bear getting hurt again.”
Mike reached over, took her hand. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Maddie isn’t the only one who lost her parents. You’ve been hurt too. Why didn’t you build a tall wall?”
Gia shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Well, tall wall or not, I’m here for you, Honeysuckle.”
Unnerved, Gia eased her hand away from him, confused by the feelings his touch stirred. “You don’t have to pretend when we’re alone.”
“I can’t comfort my friend?”
“Is that what you were doing?”
His eyes met hers. “It was.”
“Oh, well, then.” She picked up his hand, and he held on tight.
An hour later, Madison and Shelley returned to the waiting room. Shelley was pale and trembling, tears in her eyes. Madison’s mouth was set in a grim line. They looked so wrecked that Gia wasn’t sure she was ready for this.
“It’s okay.” Mike read her thoughts. “I’m with you all the way.”
* * *
THE SIGHT OF her vibrant grammy looking so pale and lifeless in that bed, plugged into machines, her head swaddled in bandages, was almost too much to handle.
Gia’s knees buckled underneath her and if Mike hadn’t been there to catch her before she hit the floor, she might well have cracked her head open.
Mike guided her to a chair, fetched crackers and orange juice from the nurses’ station. Crouched in front of her while she ate them.
“Are you feeling any better?” he asked when she finished.
She nodded.
“The color is back in your cheeks.”
She offered him the best smile she could muster, which was pretty feeble. “Could you give me some time alone with her?”
“Sure.” He nodded. “Whatever you need.”
“Thanks.”
After he left, she sat beside the bed unmoving, the crumpled cracker wrapper clutched in her hand.
Grammy was the only mother she’d ever known. She didn’t remember her parents. Her earliest memory was of arriving on the steps of the Moonglow Inn, holding on to Maddie’s and Shelley’s hands as the CPS worker rang the doorbell, waiting to meet the