Page 61 of Bad Decisions & Back Roads

Yeah.He’d understood me perfectly.

ChapterTwenty-One

GIA

Three days later…

PsychoDad:Did you rat on me?Or did that Hurst boy?

After Dad bullied Misty into giving him my number, the texts had been a constant attack.At first, I ignored them.Then I told him to stop.

“No” should’ve been enough.It never was with him.I wanted to block him, but Misty begged me not to in case something important happened to Mama.

A part of me wondered who ratted on him and what even got reported.Maybe animal cruelty or inappropriate drug withdrawal times before sending cows for slaughter?Maybe his abuse of Mama?I was kind of hopeful on the last.

PsychoDad:If you don’t tell me who ratted I won’t reinstate Misty and your mother’s health insurance.

I glanced at Misty in the passenger seat.Even the seatbelt and blanket tucked around her legs seemed to swallow up her shrunken frame.Her beanie was pulled low to hide her balding scalp.She lacked the energy to even pencil in eyebrows.The last few days had been brutal, filled with constant nausea and exhaustion.Her skin had taken on that washed-out gray pallor that made my chest ache every time I looked at her.I couldn’t understand why her doctors were pushing another round of treatment when it seemed to do nothing except steal whatever strength she had left.But stopping treatment meant surrender.And Misty wasn’t ready to stop.

Without insurance there’d be a short grace period, then nothing.The state might cover hospice, but not chemo.I could try to find another policy, but no company in their right mind would touch a diagnosis like hers.

That was the cruel genius of my father.He always found the exact place to press the knife.Ironically, there wasn’t much else he could hold over me.

Then my phone rang.PsychoDadlit up the screen.

My stomach dropped so hard it felt like falling.

I couldn’t do it.I couldn’t hear his voice.Couldn’t hear that smooth, vicious calm he used right before he struck.I tightened my grip on the steering wheel and let it ring.

An old country song drifted softly through the speakers.It told of something heartbreakingly tender about love lost and roads not taken.My mind went straight to Timothy.I’d made such a mess of things.Regret sat heavy in my chest.Worse than the regret was the silence.Days had passed without a text or call from him.

But…he hadn’t left me alone entirely.The morning after I bolted, a florist delivered a single yellow rose to my front door with a note that said only:Forever, R.

I’d cried big hard tears at that.He forgave me even though I didn’t forgive myself for hurting him.

Other little things had shown up.A breakfast sandwich and coffee waiting at work after a long overnight a few days ago.Then there was the hand drawn sign from Sofia that asked me to be her friend along with a worn little stuffed horse that appeared two days ago.Accompanying that was a handwritten invite to Sunday dinner with the Hurst family.I didn’t know if I could go, nor if I should.

Two hours later, Misty had blood drawn, another round of labs run, and a drug cocktail dripping steadily into her veins through an IV line taped to the back of her hand.The infusion room was too bright and too quiet at the same time.Reclining hospital beds lined the walls, separated by thin curtains that did nothing to hide the reality of the place.Three other patients sat hooked to IV poles, staring at their phones, sleeping, or simply enduring.

Misty had her headphones on and her eyes closed, curled beneath a warmed blanket that made her look fragile in a way I hated seeing.

I leaned over and pointed toward the door, mouthing coffee and giving her the call-me hand sign.

She yanked one headphone off dramatically.“There’s no dignity in this death-by-poison bullshit.”

She’d said that as if the words were a joke she’d practiced.

I sat carefully on the edge of her bed and took her hand in both of mine.Her skin felt cool and papery now, the bones more noticeable than they used to be.

“We can stop,” I said quietly.“If this isn’t what you want anymore, we’ll stop.”

Her expression softened a little, but she didn’t interrupt me.

“I thought you wanted to get through at least one more treatment and see if the tests show it’s working.”I swallowed around the thickness in my throat.“If you decide you’re done…” I squeezed her fingers gently.“I’ll drive you to the Grand Canyon myself and let you drive my car right off the edge.”

That got the ghost of a smile out of her.

“I won’t go with you, though,” I added, trying to keep my voice steady.“I’m still attached to living.”