Page 96 of Hottie on Her Shelf
“Truthfully, it took me a long time to get to the acceptance stage.” Caroline licked her lips. “It has been a struggle.”
That admission must’ve cost her dearly. Fitz wouldn’t push any harder, for today. He poured some water from the plastic pitcher (for this fancy room, it gave the illusion of frosted glass) and guided it to her mouth. “Would you please remember, going forward, that you can lean on me?”
“Thank you.”
He pulled the tray closer so she could reach for more water herself. “I’m going to go home and google everything. New drug trials, alternative therapies.”
Hallie would’ve enjoyed digging into this research with him.
Damn it. No matter how hard he tried not to think about her, he didn’t succeed for more than ten minutes at a time. Because he freaking missed her so damn much.
“There’s no need for you to trouble yourself. I have a good team. I received my official diagnosis at the Mayo Clinic.”
Yup. That was his mom. Name-dropping, no matter the subject. Fitz propped his chin on arms crossed over the back of the chair. “Why are you in here now? What happened, specifically?”
“Oh, it’s my eye. Optic neuritis. High-dose steroids are already turning it around. This isn’t the first time. At least I know what to expect.”
I don’t, Fitz thought. He wondered if that was why the lighting was so dim. Did it hurt? Could she see? But it seemed as if his mom was parsing out precisely as little information as she wanted him to have.
“It still sounds scary. Did something happen to make it reoccur, that maybe you could work to prevent? A drug? A lifestyle change?”
“Since you ask”—Caroline folded the sheet more neatly across the muted blue blanket—“my condition is exacerbated by stress. Your poor campaign performance has been extremely stressful to witness. I tried not to let it get to me, but…” Her voice trailed off as she pointed at the blood pressure cuff rhythmically squeezing her upper arm.
Fitz scrubbed his palm over his mouth.
Trying to tamp down his bitterness, he looked at the drawn blinds, the fake candle sconces, the muted plasma screen TV showing a travel show about waterparks (proving his mom hadn’t figured out how to work the remote). He looked anywhere but at her. Because she was sick. Hospital level sick. Clearly, not up to taking the full force of the anger that fired through his veins.
All the while knowing that she was using that sickness to try and manipulate him. Was this the famed Montgomery family legacy? What he’d bent over backward to live up to?
After swallowing hard—and then again—Fitz managed a measured tone. “You can’t lay that on me. Especially after not bothering to let me know that you had an illness that could be affected by stress.”
“Another day of IV meds and I’ll trundle off home to rest. As long as you win next week, I’ll be able to relax and fully recuperate.”
“That’s not fair. It’s also not something I could begin to promise to make happen.”
“That much is clear, but we’ve solved that for you.”
“We?” Fitz didn’t like the sound of that.
“Derek brought us some useful information.”
Fitz bit back an oath. “I fired his ass.”
“That’s a fight for a different day. Luckily, he is loyal and has continued to work for the family. It turns that out the librarian’s—”
“Ms. Scott,” he corrected. She wasn’t a job. She was a fully fledged person.
“Her father, over in Crow Harbor, is bankrupt.”
“That’s awful.”
Oh, man, that sucked. Fitz knew how close Hallie was to her parents. She’d take on their struggles as her own.
Hell. If Hallie even knew. It finally registered that it’d taken Derek’s muckraking to dig up that morsel. Maybe she didn’t know yet.
It was probably weird that he wanted to be there, to hold her hand when she found out. To support her while she was a pillar of strength for her parents. Weird because they were definitely over, except that her deciding they were over in no way turned Fitz’s feelings off.
It’d sure make his life easier if there was a…love spigot her words turned off.
