Anna

Peyton stalked around the room with Willow in her arms. Despite the jiggling, my baby looked perfectly content being hauled around by a crazy woman. I guess she was used to it.

In between making funny faces at my little girl, Peyton ranted, “And just who the fu—” Our eyes met before the word tumbled out, and she slammed her mouth shut, “—the fudge does he think he is?”

Sadly, I wasn’t sure which of the men in my life Peyton was referring to, so I stayed quiet. 

Incredulous over my silence, her eyes bulged. “You don’t seem too concerned that D-E-A-N is kicking you out of your own home.” 

Willow cocked her head, looking up at her godmother like she knew exactly whose name Peyton was spelling out. 

“It’s his house, Pey,” I replied. “Not mine.” 

Slumping into the chair Sean had slept in, I curled my hands over the armrests, hoping a little of his unwavering belief lingered in the cheap wooden frame. He’d sounded so sure when he told me everything would be all right. 

Peyton settled onto the bed and gave Willow her phone to play with. 

A long moment of silence ensued, and then, as if she could see inside my head, Peyton said, “You don’t have to go home with Sean, you know. I’ve got plenty of room.”

Without meeting her gaze, I gave a little nod of acknowledgment. I couldn’t look Peyton in the eye or she’d see, she’d know, that I wanted to go home with Sean.

Forever wasn’t in the cards for us. 

I’d taken the liberty of checking my work email, and Conner was serious about the tour. 

Soon, Sean would be back on the road, and he’d forget about me. Not completely. I’d be there, at the edge of his thoughts. But he’d get on with his life. He’d done it before. I just wanted a few days, a week maybe, to live the life we should’ve had. 

And then we’d move on.

Only this time we wouldn’t be strangers. I’d seen the way Sean looked at our daughter, cataloging her every move, her smile. We’d always be a part of each other’s lives. And that would have to be enough. 

Plastering on a fake smile for my best friend, I said, “Sean is going to be leaving soon. He deserves a chance to get to know his daughter.” 

Peyton lifted a pale brow in challenge. “And he can’t do that without you living in his house?”

I pushed out of the chair and faced her, hands on my hips and wry smile firmly in place. “You live in a loft. One big room. As much as you love Willow, you have no idea how hard it would be if we moved in.” 

Peyton’s eyes skated to my daughter. She knew I was right. 

But just to keep her off balance I added, “Maybe after Sean leaves for the tour, I’ll stay with you for a while.”

Peyton nodded without reservation, and for that, I gave her a genuine smile. If I were going anywhere, it would be to my parents. But hopefully Dean would be reasonable with his demands, and I could afford a little apartment close to the bridge on highway 360. 

My phone buzzed, and Avenged Sevenfold’s “So Far Away” bled from the speaker before I could silence it. Pressing ignore on Sean’s call, heat rose in my cheeks.

Damn it. I needed to change that ringtone before Sean heard it. 

Peyton scooted to the edge of the bed, eyes on my phone. “Well, that’s my cue. I need to leave before Prince Charming shows up,” she hopped to her feet, “or I’m liable to throat punch him.” 

I had to laugh at the visual. Peyton would go to war for me. But I hoped that someday she’d quit hating Sean. For Willow’s sake. 

Peyton kissed me on the cheek before folding me into a hug. “I won’t let Dean hurt you. Legally, at least.”

I nodded into her hair. “Thanks.” 

Breaking our connection, she held me at arm’s length, steel gray eyes clouded with worry. “You’re on your own with Sean, though.”

I gave her a weak smile. “I can handle it.” 

Peyton bit her lip. After witnessing the devastation following my split with Sean, I commended her for withholding her censure. 

Another hug, and Peyton was out the door.

I waited until I was sure she was gone to check Sean’s text message. 

Just picked up the car seat and a few other things. Be there soon.

Butterflies took flight in my stomach. The boy made me stupidly happy.

Biting back a smile, I tapped out a response. 

Meet you downstairs. Waiting for the discharge papers.

Right on cue, Jennifer the nurse strolled in pushing a wheelchair. Her cheery smile wilted the minute she looked around and noticed Sean wasn’t here. She let out a sigh as she maneuvered the chair next to the bed. 

“Looks like someone’s getting sprung today.” Willow’s eyes rounded in response to Jennifer’s roar.

People typically shouted when they found out that Willow was hearing impaired. The trick was to raise your voice a couple of octaves without adding any edge to your tone.

Jennifer held out her arms and my daughter promptly shrank against the bed railing. 

I rushed to intercede. “I’ll get her. She’s a little shy.” 

Jennifer nodded, then did a slow circuit around the room. Snagging a soda can resting on the window ledge in front of the chair where Sean had been seated, she stowed it in the pocket of her scrubs when she thought I wasn’t looking. 

Seriously? Was she going to sell it on eBay, or what?

“Do you need help getting Willow downstairs?” Jennifer offered, a little overeager. 

Picturing the petite nurse jumping into Sean’s arms and attaching herself like a spider monkey, I shook my head. “No. I’m good. Thank you, though.” 

Psycho. 

Another nod, followed by a bereft little sigh, and then Jennifer turned on her heel and walked out. 

I settled Willow into the wheelchair, rolling my eyes when the door swished open. Expecting to find Jennifer, possibly with flowers and maybe candy, I blinked at the well-dressed woman standing in the doorway.

“Mrs. Kent?” 

My gaze fell to the hospital ID pinned to the lapel of her blazer before shifting to the manila folder tucked under her arm. 

“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “I’m Anna Kent.” 

She walked toward me, hand outstretched. “Valerie Tustin.” Sliding my palm into hers, I gave her a firm shake, and she continued, “I work in the hospital’s accounting department. I’ve been assigned to your case.”

My case? 

Valerie dropped the file on top of the rolling table and then took a seat in the plastic chair. “Do you have time to discuss your bill?”

The question was obviously rhetorical since Valerie was already picking through the file. 

“Sure.” 

Willow started to squirm, so I crouched to eye level, and said close to her ear, “One minute, okay, baby?”

Willow nodded and reached for my phone, which I gave up without question. Another text from Sean lit the screen. 

I’m downstairs.

Shit. 

I took a seat across from Valerie. “I have a payment plan in place. I should’ve hit my insurance maximum by now, so they should pick up everything from this point forward.”

Valerie stopped sorting, a tight smile frozen in place. “The credit card on file has been declined, Mrs. Kent.” 

I cocked my head, a nervous laugh bubbling out. “That’s impossible.” She slid a printout in front of me, and there it was in black and white—declined. I picked up the paper and looked it over. “There’s got to be a mistake.” 

Valerie shifted, and the chair creaked beneath her. “I took the liberty of contacting the issuer. The account was closed. Were you aware of that?” 

I put down the paper, then met her gaze. “I don’t understand . . . the account was closed?” 

Valerie’s eyes softened, but not her tone. “Perhaps you should speak to your husband? The bank said he closed the account.”

Dean.

As mad as he was this morning, I never expected such swift retribution. 

How could he do this to me? To Willow? 

“I’ll do that.” My voice broke under the weight of my humiliation. “Can I write you a check?” 

Did I even have my checkbook? Or money in my account?

While I was contemplating, Valerie sighed again. Clasping her hands on top of the pile of papers, she tipped forward slightly. “Mrs. Kent, this is your fourth visit to the hospital this year. Your second this week. Your bill.” She shook her head. “It’s quite substantial. I’ve looked over the charges. Many of the tests you insisted upon were not covered by your insurance.”

“My daughter needed those tests.” My voice rose, and I could feel the tears stinging the back of my eyes. “Willow’s been diagnosed with Conductive Hearing Loss. The tests . . .”

As I struggled, unable to find the words, Valerie slid a box of tissues in front of me. The gesture was more perfunctory than genuine, like she did this a million times a day. 

Anger overshadowed my embarrassment, and I went on, “As I said, I can write you a check for this month’s payment. If you could just work with me on—” I jumped when the door swung open, the handle meeting the wall with a loud thump. Sean’s gaze skipped from Valerie to me before coming to rest on Willow in the wheelchair. 

“What’s happening, baby?” Sean asked as he closed the distance between us. 

“I . . .” 

Sean stood behind me now, hands resting on the back of my chair and thumbs caressing the space between my shoulder blades.

When Valerie started to introduce herself, I jumped to my feet, nearly knocking over the rolling table. I held out my hand, defiant. “I’ll be in touch, Valerie. Thank you for stopping by.”

My eyes locked with hers as she took my hand. Somewhere in her file, I’m sure they listed Dean’s profession. And while I was no lawyer, I was very familiar with the HIPPA laws. Unless Valerie was prepared to break confidentiality, she had no choice but to leave. But that didn’t mean she was happy about it. 

Frowning, she gathered her papers. “Very well, Mrs. Kent.” She pushed back from the table. “But I need to hear from you within seventy-two hours.” 

“No problem.” 

When I turned to get Willow, I bumped into Sean’s chest. He didn’t move, his hand curving around my hip.

“Hold on a minute,” he said, his narrowed gaze volleying between Valerie and me. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

I felt my cheeks ignite when Valerie gave a pointed look to Sean’s hand, resting just below my waist. 

Perfect. 

Since wiggling free wasn’t an option, I looked up at Sean and said through a clenched smile, “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

Sean took my hand, and then entwining our fingers he dropped into the chair I’d vacated. “Seeing as we’re all here right now, there’s no reason for that.” He glanced at the paperwork. “How much is the outstanding bill?”

Valerie shifted her gaze to mine. “May I?” 

As she waited for my answer, Sean’s thumb made little circles over mine. 

Defeated, I finally gave in. “Sure. That’s fine.”

Valerie handed Sean the invoice. “The balance is twenty-two thousand four hundred twenty-six dollars and change.”

Cringing, I felt my cheeks flame, but Sean didn’t miss a beat. “Do y’all accept American Express?” 

Valerie sat up straighter, flashing a bright smile. “Absolutely. The payment is—”

“All of it.” Sean pulled out his wallet and then placed the black card on the table. “Including the change.”