Page 53 of The Candle Palace (Jamison Valley 6)
Because I’d let it happen without a fight.
Without another word, Dr. Vernon walked to the door and whipped it open. He left me standing there—stuck—replaying the past minute.
Outside, the world was going on. The hospital noises were faint behind the closed door. Patients were hurting. Nurses were healing.
And I was a statue, cemented in the minute I’d never forget.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the clock to rewind.
Dr. Vernon’s smell was everywhere. It clung to me, worse than any smell of cigarettes ever had. I took a deep breath and gagged. When I tried another, I slapped a hand over my mouth, plugging my nose as I found the strength to race away.
The moment I was in the hallway, I sprinted for the stairs.
Across the unit, Milo was in his room. He was probably anxious and waiting for an explanation.
But I couldn’t give him one. Not right now.
Milo would throw Dr. Vernon out a window if he knew about the kiss.
So with tears blurring my eyes, I kept my chin down and my hand over my mouth to keep the sob from escaping.
I ran, just like I had hours ago. The drum of my feet on the stairs only made me run faster, until I was home, safe in my condo.
Safe in the place Dad had given me.
It was then that I let the tears flow. I brushed my teeth and washed my face, except it wasn’t enough. Dr. Vernon’s smell, his taste, remained. So I took a shower so hot my skin was pink when I emerged from the steam.
I dressed in my most comfortable pajamas, collected my phone and went to bed, hiding beneath the covers as my entire body shivered.
I felt dirty. I felt angry.
I felt weak.
And the one person I wanted to tell was the one person I couldn’t.
The phone clutched to my chest vibrated and I didn’t need to look to know it was Milo.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I cried until the tears were gone.
Until I exhausted myself and drifted off to sleep.
Nine
MILO
“And here’s the last one.” Kym handed over the final brochure from her stack, this one warning me of the risks of drug addiction after long-term hospital stays.
“Thanks.” I tucked it into my backpack with its five hundred companions and accompanying leaflets, then zipped up the bag and slung it over my shoulder. The papers were all destined for the nearest trash can.
My parents had sent me a package from home this week. This backpack, one I’d had since high school, had been inside along with enough clothes to last a week.
Because while I was definitely leaving this hospital behind, I wasn’t quite done yet with Washington.
Mom had been disappointed when I’d called to tell her I wasn’t coming straight home. Her mood had lifted the instant I’d told her my prolonged stay was to spend time with Sara.
She did her best to hide it, but Mom had grandbaby fever. She was desperate for me to settle down and have a family of my own. For years, she’d tried to play matchmaker with Maisy’s mother. It wasn’t uncommon for childhood friends to eventually become married couples in my small hometown. But Maisy had always been a friend, something of a little sister. Mom had given up hope for the two of us to get married and have babies.
Now Mom had her hopes set on Sara.
