The line made a clicking noise, then my dad started talking.

“That doc came by the house about an hour ago,” he said, his voice insinuating I knew what he was referring to. “Now, princess, I know you’re just looking out for your old man, but that was something that should’ve been cleared with me first. Don’t like people just showing up at my house. Especially if I don’t even know ’em. Hell, he was lucky I didn’t shoot first and ask questions later. I was in my right.”

“Oh, John. Don’t be ridiculous,” my mother scoffed, her voice clear now and as loud as his. She had picked up the other house phone. “You were not in your right to shoot him. My God,” she added.

“Got a No Trespassin’ sign up, Dee. I was in my right.”

“I’m sorry,” I cut in before my mom had a chance to keep disagreeing. “But I really have no idea what you’re both talking about. Did a doctor come see you or something?”

“You know he did, princess. You arranged the damn thing.”

I squinted out the front windshield. “What? I didn’t arrange anything. Who said that?”

“Said he was doing a favor for his brother. That he insisted,” Dad replied. “Mc-something. I don’t know. I can’t read this chicken scratch handwriting. Here, Dee.”

Mc-something?

Oh, my God.

I sucked in a breath, stomach tensing as I asked, “What?” on a whisper.

“McCade. His name was McCade,” my mom said. “Ooh, and he was young, wasn’t he, John? I didn’t know doctors could be that young.”

“His name was McCade?” I asked in a quick voice, sitting forward in my seat and gripping the phone harder.

“That’s another thing,” Dad grumbled. “Not sure I should be taking orders from some kid. What’s he know anyway?”

“I like that he’s young. Means his mind is fresh on the books,” Mom contended.

“Would you both quit arguing and pay attention to what I’m saying?” I shrieked, now gripping hold on the steering wheel with one hand. “You said his name was McCade? Is that what I heard?”

“Yes. Dr. McCade,” my mom answered, also speaking in a way it was as if I should know this information already. “His first name is Travis.”

“How’d you know that?” Dad asked, sounding flippant.

“It says so right here on the prescription. Really, if you would just wear your glasses—”

“Forget the glasses!” I interrupted. “Jamie had his brother come to your house and treat you? He … he really did that? Are you sure his last name was McCade?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Pumpkin, why are you acting like you don’t know anything about this?” Mom asked.

“Because I don’t know anything about this,” I informed both of them, breathing heavy now I was so worked up. “I can’t believe … wait, what did he tell you? That it’s not heartburn? What else?”

“Went through two bottles of Tums,” Mom mumbled under her breath. “What a waste.”

Dad exhaled heavily in my ear. I pictured him glaring at my mother all while holding her hand and giving it a loving squeeze.

It was how they operated.

“Said my pressure is up. Took some blood and told me to go get some tests or something,” he shared. “Said the chest pain could be from my pressure, but he wanted to make sure. Also gave me a prescription for some dog scan.”

“A CAT scan, John,” Mom corrected.

“Same damn thing.”

“And he said something about you losing weight,” Mom added. “I heard him.”

“Don’t remember nothin’ about that,” Dad returned.

“He wrote it down. Again, if you’d just put on your glasses …”

“Oh, my God,” I murmured as they continued to debate in my ear, and this was strictly in reaction to what I was realizing, not because of my parents and their bickering.

They bickered out of love all the time. I was pretty immune to it. I wasn’t reacting to that. I was reacting to what I was thinking about—last night with Jamie and our conversation before we started eating. The one we had right after I hung up from my mom.

Travis McCade.

My hand slid off the wheel to press to my stomach at the same time as my eyes lowered and lost focus.

“He told me to give it another day. That’s what he said,” I muttered mostly to myself. “He … he told me to wait and see how you were doing ’cause he knew I was worrying and he didn’t want me to. He was taking care of it.”

He said it like a promise. Give it another day. He promised me.

“What’s that, pumpkin?” my mom asked.

“Jamie got his brother to go check on you.” I swallowed thickly, shaking my head. “I didn’t ask him to do that. I—I didn’t even know he had a brother.”

Why didn’t I know that? Didn’t I ever ask him questions? I know he asked me questions.

“I didn’t know doctors still made house calls,” Mom said on a chuckle. “Lucky for us since your father is so stubborn.”

“Still on the line, Dee,” Dad pointed out.

“He had his brother go check on you,” I repeated, barely above a whisper.

I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together, breathing deeply and quickly through my nose and feeling it tingle.