Page 43 of The Candle Palace (Jamison Valley 6)
Maybe our relationship would continue over the phone. Maybe, in time, this flurry of attraction would fade to a friendship. Maybe the sparks between us would ignite into a fire that fused us together permanently.
“Sara.” Mom’s voice startled me and I forced my eyes from Milo.
“Yeah, Mom?”
She walked my way. “Greg and I are going to get some coffee downstairs while I wait for Denny.”
“Okay.” I nodded. That was the best idea she’d had in ages. “Let me know what the mechanic says about your car.”
“Milo,” Dr. Vernon said, looking between us both, “take care not to overexert yourself. It would probably be best if you limited yourself to one walk a day.”
“Sure thing, Doc.” There was no missing the condescending tone.
Dr. Vernon let the faintest scowl show before walking to the elevator to push the call button.
“You really should do something with your hair,” Mom said quietly.
“What’s wrong with my hair?” I smoothed the ends of my ponytail.
“There are a lot more attractive ways to wear your hair up.”
All of which took exponentially longer than the ten seconds it took to tie my hair in a ponytail. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Is navy the only color you can wear?” She inspected my scrubs, not letting me answer. “It’s too bad you can’t wear green or something to bring out your eyes.”
“I’m here to help people, Mom. Not win a beauty contest.”
She opened her mouth, likely to deliver another critique, but stopped when Dr. Vernon returned to her side.
The four of us stood there in a silence so awkward I began to sweat. Milo was refusing to go back to his room. Mom was smiling sweetly at Dr. Vernon as his gaze alternated between her and me. And I was stuck in the middle, wondering why the goddamn elevator was taking so long.
It dinged and I breathed a sigh of relief. Until the doors opened and my brother stepped onto the floor.
“Denny?” Mom went to his side. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
He coughed. “I was downtown.”
“Oh, really?” Her eyebrows came together. “I thought you were at home.”
“Had to run an errand.” He shook her grip from his arm and looked up at me. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I mumbled.
Denny’s eyes were glassy. His long hair, a shade darker and much, much dirtier than mine, was pulled into a messy man bun. He looked like he’d spent the night sleeping in a ditch. His jeans were filthy. His flannel shirt had a rip in the side. The laces on his boots were untied, the ends caked in dirt and snow where he’d walked on them.
Seeing Denny like this would have broken Dad’s heart.
It broke mine.
“Can we g
o?” Denny didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and staggered back to the elevators, pushing the first-floor button five times before shoving his hands in his pockets.
Mom and I shared a worried glance. Maybe his addiction hadn’t gone unnoticed in her house. Maybe she was more concerned than she’d let on.
Denny was Mom’s whole world. Their bond was different than the one I had with her. Even though she picked at me, I knew she loved me, in her own way.
She loved me.
