Page 99 of Caught Up In You

“It’s a hospital room. What could possibly be nice about it?” I snap, the exhaustion finally hitting me. I got just a couple of hours of sleep, the drive to the hospital was incredibly tense, and now that the adrenaline is bleeding out of me, I’m starting to unravel. I wrap my arms around myself, missing Owen, who hasn’t come back yet.

“I’m just trying to look on the bright side,” Libby says. “We could be stuck down in the ER all night like that time you fell down the stairs when you were five and broke your ankle. That wasawful. There was a drunk in the next bed who moaned for hours and hours and scared the dickens out of you. Neither of us got any sleep.”

“You mean the time we were staying at that cheap motel because we got evicted and I slipped on a beer someone spilled in the stairwell and broke myarm? That time?”

“Oh, right, it was your arm,” she says, like that’s the most important part of the memory.

When Fatima walks into Eden’s room, I look over her shoulder for Owen.

But he’s not there.

“Okay, looks like everyone is settled,” Fatima says, reaching for Eden’s chart. She peruses the notes and nods. “Her pulse ox is improving, just like we want to see. If everything keeps heading in this direction, I think she’ll be discharged by tomorrow night. In the meantime, I think we should give Hazel and Eden some room. It’s a tight space. Hazel, that recliner lies flat. I know it’s hard, but please try to get some sleep. Eden’s not going to get better faster if you stare at her. She’s in good hands, and so are you.”

“Yeah, you two should go home and sleep,” Hazel says to Libby and me. “Wyatt, you can drive Mom.”

She sounds authoritative. Like a mother. It takes my breath away.

“I came here with Owen. There’s no more room in my truck,” I say. I sound like a stubborn teen, and I hate it.

“Where is Owen, anyway?” Libby asks.

“Oh, he went home,” Fatima says.

“He what?” The words are out of my mouth—part panicked, part aghast—before I can control my tone. I feel Libby’s eyes on me, studying my reaction. “How? I mean, I’m his ride.”

I pat my purse, hearing the rattle of my keychain.

“He called an Uber,” Fatima says. “There was nothing for him to do here, and he needed sleep. I suggest the two of you get some rest too.”

He called an Uber.

The words hit me like a slap.

Not six hours ago, he was telling me he loved me over and over again. And now he’s walked away when my niece is in the hospital? He just…left?

I pull out my phone and check our text thread, but there’s nothing from him. No apology, no explanation.

Something isn’t right.

“Okay, we’ll head out, then,” Libby says. She gathers her purse and gives Eden a soft kiss on the cheek, then wraps Hazel in a hug. “Get some sleep, honey, okay? Call us if you need anything. We can bring breakfast in the morning.”

“Yeah,” I say, giving Hazel a hug, but I’m only halfway present. My brain is grasping for explanations. Anything that will make me stop worrying about Owen’s sudden disappearance.

“Thanks for coming,” Hazel says, her voice watery.

“I’ll always be here for you, Haze.”

“I know. I know that with every part of me. But make sure you show up for yourself too, okay?” She squeezes my arms. “Maybe drop Mom off and go to Owen’s?”

Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do. Owen’s just tired and stressed, rattled from our dark-of-night rush to the hospital. I’ll go find him, reassure him that Eden is okay, and maybe we can finally talk about what’s been going on with him.

I think back to my conversation with Francie, and I wonder if he even knows.

The truck is still in the reserved spot by the door, the tires between the lines but slightly askew. I think back to our arrival, to the way Owen swung the wheel into the parking lot, theway the truck lurched to a halt. I wasn’t paying close attention because my thoughts were consumed with worry about Eden and Hazel. But now that Eden is safe and Hazel is resting, I can’t escape the memory of how Owen looked: his clenched jaw, his knotted shoulders, the tension that absolutely radiated off him.

“So, you heading over to the good doctor’s house?” Libby asks as I pull out of the parking lot.

“What?” I nearly forgot she was beside me, and my hands are clenched around the wheel, my knuckles white.Something isn’t right.I keep repeating it like a mantra.

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