Chapter 14

Houston

“Houston, darling, I’m so sorry to do this to you,” my mother croaked on the other end of the line. “I know how important your work is to you, but I need you here. I’m not feeling well, and Doctor Henman is out of town again. The replacement he’s got here is a total hack.”

I clicked my ballpoint pen, my cell pinned to my ear while I signed a release form. A young mother sat on the chairs nearby, holding her baby in a blue swaddling cloth, a little blue hat on his crown. His father hovered next to them, like an overprotective hen. Or cock?

“You’re ill?” I asked. “Mom, are you sure? I don’t mean to be a dick—”

“Houston, language!”

“I don’t mean to be a prick,” I continued and ignored the gasp on the other end of the line, “but you’ve called me out to Summit Springs before for an illness, and it was an ingrown toenail.” One I’d had to remove for her. Mom was terrible at doing things for herself, but she had a heart of gold.

And while she didn’t do much for herself, she’d done everything for me. To give me a good future. Unlike my jackass father.

Not now.

“Houston, what are you suggesting?” Clarissa’s voice strengthened. “That I’d lie?”

“No, that you’d over exaggerate. There’s a vast difference.” Excuse the pun.

“I’m not exaggerating and, frankly, I can’t believe you’d even suggest it. I need your help, darling.”

“What are your symptoms?” I asked and eyed the mom and baby. They were sweet together, almost enough to melt the obsidian around my heart. Almost.

“Oh, uh, respiratory distress—coughing—and I’m dizzy and feverish. I have the chills. And a sharp pain in the right side of my chest.” Mom sniffled. “That’s it. All those things. Ooh, the pain is terrible.”

It sounded almost like pneumonia, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure without actually seeing her. “You checked into a hospital?” I asked and finished my signature with a flourish, then handed the clipboard to a nurse beside me.

I readjusted my grip on the cell.

The silence on the other end told me all I needed to know, and it wasn’t good. “Mother?”

“I’d like to, but I—oh, it’s not that serious,” she said and coughed, feebly. “Darling, I’m not calling you back because you’re a doctor but because you’re my son. I need the love and support.”

I hinged on the cusp, then toppled over. “All right,” I said, evenly. “I’ll be there in three days. Mom, check into a hospital, please. I’ll meet you there.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll see you soon, honey. And thank you. Love you.”

“You, too,” I replied, gruffly, then hung up.

Shit, Jason would be super happy about this. Over the fucking moon in fact, but it was something I had to do. If my mother needed me, I’d be there for her, just as she’d been there for me, at every graduation and school meet. She’d been my rock, and I’d be that for her in return.

It took an argument with Jase—which I won, I always did—packing my damn bags, and a day of flight and traveling before I finally arrived in Summit Springs.

Mom hadn’t checked into the hospital, of course. She was stubborn as a damn mule.

She’d waited it out until I’d arrived and had a chauffeured car fetch me at the airport and drive me all the way to the small town.

I fumed on the car drive over, the cutesy buildings swishing by and my focus on lecturing Mom thoroughly. I despised people who endangered themselves unnecessarily. And Clarissa Pope wasn’t a dumbass. She knew better than this.

Besides, if I didn’t go through all the harsh yet needed things I’d say to my mother, I’d think about her.

Was she still here? Still working at that school? She’ll want to hear from you again.

I tapped my fingers on the armrest and didn’t search the streets. Didn’t peer into the shops. Definitely not.

Finally, we pulled up to Mom’s mansion, and I got out before the suited dude could open the car door for me. I grabbed my overnight bag and jogged up the stone-front steps, columns flanking them on either side, and to the vast wooden door.

I didn’t bother knocking or waiting for my mother’s geriatric butler. I simply burst in and stormed across the marble flooring, peered up at the glossy stairs that led to the second floor and the dainty rail that I’d never liked.

How easy would it be to topple over? Ridiculous choice.

“Mom?” I yelled.

“Oh, Mr. Pope.” The butler shuffled out of a door at the far end of the hall, carrying a silver tray in one hand. I always forgot this guy’s name. Butler was what I called him and that was how it’d stay.

“Doctor,” I replied.

“Yes, Dr. Pope. I hardly expected to see you here,” he said and rolled his lips together. What he lacked in chin, he made up for in tufty white hair.

“Butler, where’s my mother?” I asked. “And what the hell is on that tray?”

“It’s your mother’s lunch,” Butler replied, with another of his signature lip rolls.

I walked up to him and lifted the cloth that covered the food on the tray. A roast lunch. Potatoes, spicy chicken—my mom loved hot food—and pancakes on the side, coated in maple syrup.

“This is her lunch?” I asked. “Are you mad? She’s ill. She needs fluids. Make her a chicken soup, for fuck’s sake.”

“There’s no need to be rude, Dr. Pope,” Butler replied. “And she’s not ill. She’s in the best health I’ve ever seen her.”

“What?” I narrowed my eyes at the man.

He jolted, and the plate rattled on the tray. Lip rolls on repeat, baby. “I—Dr. Pope.”

“What do you mean, she’s not ill?” If she called me back for another ingrown toenail, I swear to god…

“Dr. Pope, I—”

“Houston?” Mom’s voice traveled down from her bedroom above us. “Houston, leave Jeffrey alone, dear, and come upstairs this instant.”

I grunted.

Butler sagged and backed up a few steps to give me room.

I ignored him, took the stairs two at a time, adjusting my grip on the handle of my bag over and over again. “Mom, what’s going on?” I asked, as I strode toward her door, past that dainty railing. “Why are you eating roast potatoes and—” I swept into her bedroom—more like chamber—and froze, mid-stride.

My mother sat up in bed, pink-cheeked and dressed in her usual summer attire, a cotton blouse, windows thrown wide open, sunlight heating the mauve carpeting. Her four-poster’s sheets looked unwrinkled, certainly not as if she’d slept in them recently.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Darling, how are you feeling? Jet-lagged? Would you like something to eat, to drink? Butler’s cooking up a veritable feast.”

“Yeah, I saw that.” I dropped my bag with a dull thud. “Why is that, exactly?”

“Because I was hungry. You see, darling, I’m feeling much better. Whatever I had is totally gone now.” She plied me with a smile as radiant as that summer sunshine streaming in. “But I really appreciate that you’ve come all this way.” She threw back the covers and rose, dusted off her skirt, then plumped her locks though there wasn’t a hair out of place. “Anyway, now that you’re here, you might as well stay for a while and enjoy the summer. It’s quite lonely in this big old house.”

I took in the information as best I could, did my best to still the anger brewing in my gut.

I loved my mother. I’d do anything to help her. Drop anything at a moment’s notice, but this was bullshit.

My career had already taken too many knocks, and this disappearance might’ve been the final straw. My argument with Jason had ended with me leaving, and yeah, I considered that a win, but he wasn’t happy.

And the board members wouldn’t be happy.

If I lost this opportunity, thanks to one of my mother’s whims…

“Mom, how stupid do you think I am?”

“Pardon me?”

“You can’t recover from pneumonia without medical attention in the span of three days,” I said, and the lid on my pot of rage rattled and threatened to pop off. “You lied to me. You weren’t sick.”

“No, I was,” Clarissa replied. “I swear, I was. I wouldn’t lie to you, Houston. I really was feeling horrible, and I did need your support, but about a day ago I started feeling better and by then it was already too late to tell you to go back since you were well on your way.”

I pressed my knuckles to my forehead and shut my eyes.

Fuck. Jason is going to freak and that’s going to make me freak. I wasn’t good with authority, never had been. I preferred doing things my way, and that usually pissed off people, including the board members and the chief of staff.

They’d take any reason to kick me out, particularly since I’d just come off the back of a scandal.

“Huey?” My mom walked over and put out her hands. “Give me a hug, come on. I haven’t seen you in months.”

“Why did you do this?” I asked.

“I was sick.” She folded her arms around me and rested her head against my chest. “I really was. You know, I’d never do anything to hurt your career. I love you, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”

I softened a little, hugged her back. “All right,” I said. “All right, but I’ve got to leave again, preferably right away. I might lose my position because of this. I’ve got to book a return flight.”

“Oh, honey,” she said and drew back again. “Surely, that can wait? Can’t you stay for dinner at least? I’ll have Chef cook up something you’ll adore. Filet mignon? Lobster bake?”

I shook my head. “I have to get back as soon as possible.”

“There might not even be another flight out tonight,” she said and offered me one of those motherly smiles—the ones that told me I’d already lost the argument before it’d even started.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll stay for dinner, but, Mom, please, you can’t do this again. I want to be here for you, but it has to be serious.”

“Scout’s honor,” she replied, “I thought it was serious. I would never lie to you, Houston, at least, not on purpose.” She patted my cheek with a hand that’d become frail recently. How many years until she was seventy? “So, what’ll it be? Filet mignon?”

“Fine,” I replied, because I still wasn’t thrilled about any of this.

“Good,” Mom said. “And, honey? You should probably take a shower. One of my friends is coming over tonight—she wants to check in on me. You know how protective women can be.”

“Which friend?” I asked.

But Mom had already marched out of her room, trailing an air of triumph.

Fuck it, I didn’t have time to chase after her. I had a call, and an apology, to make.