Letters to Molly (Maysen Jar, #2)(64)

“I’ll wait over there,” I told Finn, thumbing at the chairs along the far wall. “Good luck.”

He grinned. “Thanks.”

It had been ten weeks since Finn’s accident. A few days ago, he’d gotten a new, shorter cast on his arm, giving him mobility from his shoulder to his elbow. He’d also had his leg cast removed. In its place was a special boot to give his bones some stability as they finished mending. His pelvic bone had fused together. The damage to his internal organs was a distant nightmare now. He was recovering, better and faster than the doctors had expected.

For weeks, Finn had been working hard to build the strength for walking with exercise bands and light weights. Today was the test. If he did well enough in physical therapy, he’d get rid of the chair and graduate to crutches.

I smiled as he stood from his wheelchair. Over the last two weeks, he’d started to stand on his own. He’d gained some freedom from the chair that was driving him crazy.

He was healing.

We all were.

I walked over to the blue pleather chairs and took my usual seat, second from the end. It gave me the best view of where Finn and Ashley were working. Then I pulled out my laptop from my purse and got it going.

Finn’s physical therapy appointments had been a demanding obligation for all of us. He had to have a ride, which defaulted to me. Since I wouldn’t let myself get behind at the restaurant, I’d gotten really good at working from this tiny screen perched on my legs. Anything that had to be done on the computer, I saved for these two-hour sessions. That way when I got back to the restaurant, I could cover the floor for Poppy.

It had been an adjustment, but we were making it work. School was back in session and the kids were into a normal routine. We were finding normal again, something I yearned for and dreaded at the same time.

Normalcy meant life before the accident. To the time when Finn lived at his home with the kids three or four days a week. And I was all alone.

I wasn’t ready to be alone again.

Since Finn had moved in, it had been easy to fall into thinking we were a family. That my home housed four, not three. When he left, I’d get used to it. I’d adjust.

But I wasn’t the only one who’d fallen in love with this living situation.

Kali was so happy to have Finn around every day. She talked to him more than she talked to me. She’d tell him about her friends, about what she was looking forward to in her classes. She’d come home one night last week in a horrible mood. No matter how many times I’d asked her what was wrong, she’d insisted it was nothing.

Finn had asked once. Kali. Sweetie, what’s wrong?

Cue the waterworks. Apparently, there was a girl at her middle school who’d been teasing Kali about her body during recess. Kali hadn’t started to develop breasts yet, and this other girl had teased her for being flat chested. All the other girls were in training bras.

As I’d listened in on Kali telling Finn all about it, I’d fought the urge to track down this little brat’s mother and chew her up one side and down the other. But I’d stayed quiet. I wasn’t sure why Kali hadn’t told me, maybe because Max had been in the car with us. I knew my daughter and she would have opened up to me eventually, but she and Finn had this connection. Even when talking about bras and breasts and getting older, she trusted him completely.

He didn’t have to coax things from her. He was her confidant. Her safe zone.

Max loved having Finn around too. He was as carefree and jovial as always. I swear that kid had the strongest cheek muscles in the world because he could smile for hours. But with Finn home, it was more. Max’s light was set to high beam.

Soon, that would end.

Across the room, Finn took a pair of crutches from Ashley and fitted them under his arms. Determination was written all over his face. He was leaving the chair behind today. He wouldn’t need my help for much longer. He couldn’t drive yet, but that would happen before long too. His leaving was only a matter of time.

We needed to prepare the kids.

He shot me a smile as he took one step, then another. Ashley loomed close, touching his arm.

My eyes narrowed on her hand.

She always touched him. No, she felt him. It had rubbed me the wrong way from the beginning. It was too intimate, not the way therapists should touch their patients. It reminded me of how the head cheerleader at my high school had always found ways to touch the football team’s quarterback.

Besides, wasn’t she supposed to be helping him walk? On. His. Own?

I turned my attention to the computer screen, refusing to look up, because I knew the expression on my face wasn’t pretty. My skin was probably turning green.

Ashley’s irritating giggle sailed across the room. I should have brought my earbuds to wear so I could listen to music and block her out. But I was stupid and had forgotten them today in the bag I’d packed for the gym.

Packing and unpacking that bag had become part of my routine these last few weeks. I was determined to take advantage of having Finn around in the mornings. I could go to the gym before the kids woke up because he was home if they needed something. So I packed my bag each night, set my alarm for four and fell asleep. I woke to the beeping and reset it for five thirty, and before drifting off again, I promised that backpack tomorrow would be the day.

Tomorrow was never the day.

But I still packed that bag.