Must Be Wright (The Wrights 3)

Some common sense.

A time machine to rewind several days of her life so she could let Wyatt deal with his own shit.

“Release papers would be nice,” she said instead.

“Your nurse is working on them right now.”

Gypsy nodded. “Can I get a couple of juice boxes? They’re not going to be in the best moods when they wake up.”

“You bet.”

“Thank you.” When the girl moved on, Gypsy closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the chair. She felt hollow with disappointment. Heavy with a sense of abandonment.

She sat here holding someone else’s problem, literally. Again. It really was a theme in her life. One she’d worked so hard to overcome. She’d taken care of her step siblings for her father and stepmother. She’d taken care of celebrities for her club. She’d taken on sole responsibility for Cooper when his douchebag father wanted to abort him.

She tried so hard to break the ugly cycle. She’d stayed in the States when her family had moved to Switzerland. She’d quit her job at the club to free herself of the celebrity garbage. She’d bargained for full custody of Cooper, and she’d bought and run her own successful bar.

She’d actually started to feel in control of her life for a change.

And then…Wyatt.

Fucking Wyatt.

God, would she ever learn?

Voices drifted through the ER. People passed the room again and again. Gypsy had caught snippets of a hundred different conversations.

Then the slide of metal along metal brought Gypsy’s eyes open to Wyatt standing in the doorway.

A rush of relief brought on a flood of tears. Until right this second, she hadn’t realized how worried she’d been that something had actually happened to him.

His gaze darted to the kids, held on Belle’s cast. Pain flashed in his eyes. He slid a hand down his face, paused over his mouth, and murmured, “Oh my God,” with all the shock and guilt the situation warranted.

Before she could ask where he’d been, Cooper stirred. His whiney “Mommy” signaled a very tired, very frustrated, very upset three-year-old tantrum on the near horizon.

Belle on the other hand, didn’t budge. She was sacked out and rightfully so. She’d spent hours in fear and pain.

“Gypsy…” Wyatt started.

“Take Cooper,” she told him, “or he’ll hurt Belle.”

Wyatt slipped his hands around Cooper’s middle and lifted him off Gypsy. “Hey, buddy.”

The nurse’s aide came in with juice, along with the nurse and the discharge papers.

“Can you help me with Belle?” Gypsy asked the women. “I’m afraid to move her arm.”

The nurses stepped in and helped Gypsy move a still-sleeping Belle to the gurney, while Cooper very loudly told Wyatt all about the biggest disaster of Cooper’s little life—missing out on superhero camp.

Now, divested of the two sweaty little Klingons, Gypsy took a deep breath and shook out her tingling limbs. She thanked the nurse’s aide and took the juice boxes, then asked the nurse, “Can we have a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

The two women left, pulling the curtain closed behind them. Gypsy stepped forward and pulled the glass door shut. Having Wyatt walk into the ER was sure to be in the entertainment news before they’d even walked out. No need to give the leeches any more material than necessary.

“Gypsy, I’m so sorry.”

The pain in Wyatt’s voice was genuine, but she was too far gone for it to affect her. As soon as she’d seen that he was safe and well, all her walls clicked into place. She’d already overextended herself, and Cooper had paid the price.