Staying on Course (Finding our Way 2)

“So after we have the third child, I’m calling it quits. And then, of course, we’ll need the five bedroom Victorian home I’ve been dreaming about. At that point, we’ll also need a guest house because our parents will be around all the time. You can have a man cave if you promise to keep a wine cooler stocked at all times for me and my craziness.

“Okay, enough daydreaming. Time for studying.” I reach inside my bag and get out my laptop to review the notes Crystal and Quinn scanned and emailed. “I’d read them to you out loud, but you’d never want to wake.”

The words mix together, and my eyes start to cross, so I decide to take a break and call Quinn.

“He up?” she asks in greeting.

“Not yet but anytime now. How are you?”

“I’m good. It’s your parents who are going crazy. Morgan came over this morning and put new snow chains on your car, and your dad said they’re leaving tomorrow morning no matter what. Should I take it personally that they can’t wait to get away from me?”

“No, it’s more about me. Y’all have been gone for three days. They think I’m going to shatter under pressure.”

“Are you?”

“Not today,” I answer honestly. “Tomorrow is another story.”

“Good deal. So tell me what’s happening today.”

“You already know about the visitors pouring in. Nate was right. People stop by throughout the day. There’s no way I’ll remember their names.”

“Put name tags at the nurse’s station.”

“Quinn, that’s the tackiest thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“Yeah, but it made you smile.”

“I miss you so much,” I admit.

“Chica, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

A throat clears, and I look up and gasp. Tommy and Nicole stand in the doorway, waiting awkwardly.

“Quinn, I need to go. The Betts are here.”

“Oh, shit! Are you alone?”

“Bryce is here.”

“He’s comatose! Who’s going to bitch slap the traitor? Damn! I’m calling security.”

“Stop being stupid. They are staring at me. Need to go,” I whi

sper and hang up, setting my phone on the end of the hospital bed.

“May we come in?” Tommy asks uncomfortably.

I nod and remain seated.

They walk in slowly, and I watch Nicole’s eyes roam over the room. She stops at Bryce’s bedside and picks up a picture frame.

“This is a beautiful picture.” She refers to a photo of Bryce and me in Destin last summer.

“Thank you.”

“They’re all great.” She points at the dozen photos placed around the room of family and friends.

“I had Nate bring them from the townhouse. It makes the room more warm and welcoming.”