Page 47 of Bad Decisions & Back Roads

“Really?”She drew out the word.

I ducked my head.“Maybe I did expect a bit more acknowledgement of my pain instead of focusing on hers.”

Mom sighed deeply.I could’ve sworn under her breath she muttered, “Men,” like it was a terminal illness.Then she raised her head and asked, “Tell me straight up, Timothy, now that you had your little moment with the woman who you think ripped out your heart, do you feel done with her?Do you believe you shouldlet it go?”

I breathed shallow for several heartbeats.Then shook my head.

“Didn’t think so.”She pointed at me.“Then be there for her.As a friend if that’s all she can give you.Stop making her carry your feelings on top of everything else putting pressure on her.”

“All right.I’ll stop chopping wood.”

“Good first move.”Mom whipped around and marched back to the house.

I called out, “How do you know about her sister?”

She gave me one of those you’re-an-idiot glares that only my mom can give.“How do I know about Misty?One of my closest friends is a nurse on the oncology floor.Did you know Gia drives Misty to the cancer ward and sits with her for hours every other week?She takes her in for rechecks between shifts at the veterinary hospital several times a week.I’m sure she’s doing things to care for her that you couldn’t even imagine.Her sister is wasting away, and Gia has a front-row seat to every bit of it.” She swallowed hard.“I walked that road with my own sister, God rest her soul, before cancer took her back when you were around six years old.”

I didn’t have anything to say back to her.

Mom stared at me and then said, “I want you to hear me on this.Watching someone you love die slowly—from cancer, from chemo, from all the suffering in between—doesn’t break your heart in one clean snap.It breaks you by inches.Tiny losses pile up until one day, the person you love is still breathing, and all you can do is pray God takes them mercifully and ends their pain.You hate yourself for praying it.”She shook her head.“People think goodbye happens once, at the end.It doesn’t.You say goodbye over and over to who they were, to what they could do, and to each piece of them that cancer steals.Every night, you hope their suffering ends by morning… And every morning you wake up carrying the guilt of that hope.”

“I’m sorry,” I called out.

“I’m not the one you need to be sorry to.”

ChapterSeventeen

GIA

For the past ten days,I’d professionally avoided my own life.

Extra shifts.Overnight calls.Staying up for long hours with Misty.I’d even done crazed baking fests until my freezer was stuffed full of food I might never eat.I did anything to ensure I was either too busy or too exhausted to think.It was a solid system if the goal was slow emotional erosion with a side of sleep deprivation.

Unfortunately, my brain hadn’t agreed to the plan.It kept rewinding those few minutes with Timothy.The kisses.That moment everything had gone quiet and right all at once.

I needed to learn how to stop thinking about thewhat ifs.I couldn’t offer anything real to anyone, not with all the time it took to care for Misty and never while my father’s shadow stretched over every decision I made.Commitment and imminent disaster didn’t pair well.

Which was why it made perfect sense that I was currently driving out to the Hurst farm.Apparently, I was also a hypocrite.

“Just Buck,” I muttered to myself as I turned down the drive.“You’re here for the dog who is overdue to have those sutures removed.Dogs are safe.Dogs don’t kiss you and destroy your life.”

I pulled in and let out a slow breath when I didn’t see Timothy’s truck.Then, annoyingly, disappointment elbowed in.I ignored it and headed for the door.

It opened to the senior Hurst, the same man I’d met at the clinic.Mason Hurst looked so much like Timothy.It was a preview of what he’d look like grayed out.He reminded me of a face I was trying very hard not to think about.

“I’m here to take out Buck’s sutures and check his tail wound, sir.”

He smiled easily as if there wasn’t a decades-old family feud quietly humming under the surface.“Come on in, Dr.Stevens.Josh said you’d be by.”

The kitchen smelled warm and comforting.And of apple pie.Before I could fully process that, Lisa Hurst caught her husband by the shirt and pulled him in for a quick kiss.

“You brought me a dinner guest.”Lisa eyed me like I might be a surprise dessert.

Mason Hurst blinked.“She’s here to take care of Buck.”

“We’ll set you a place, Dr.Stevens.Can I call you Gia?”

“Gia is fine, ma’am.I wouldn’t want to impose.”I shook my head quickly, already taking a step back like that might physically remove me from the situation.