Page 134 of From Air

Dwight is beyond repair.

My relationship with Fitz is beyond repair.

My shattered dreams ... beyond repair.

“Did you have a good session with Dr. Lin?” I ask Dwight while he eats his dinner.

“I did. I told her about you.”

I lift my eyebrows. “Oh yeah? What did you say?”

“I said I’m the luckiest one here because my daughter is my nurse.”

I chuckle, knowing Dr. Lin doesn’t know or believe I’m Dwight’s daughter. If I thought telling her the truth would help resolve his issues and get him out of this facility, I’d do it. Instead, I think it would leadto me leaving my position earlier than planned. Then who would look out for his best interests?

“Well, I’m a travel nurse. I won’t be here forever. In fact, I might be done after Christmas, unless I get my contract extended, which I’m hoping will happen.”

“How’s your family?” It’s the first time he’s asked me aboutmyfamily.

“I’m not married. No kids.” I barely get the words out of my mouth with my composure intact. And my hand instinctively goes to the tattoo on my neck every time I think of Fitz, which is often. Clearing my throat, I smile. “However, I have three days off starting tomorrow, and I’m taking a flight to go visit your parents.”

He stops midchew, brow tense. “Their graves?”

“They’re alive.”

Dwight shakes his head, brushing off my reply. “If they were alive, they would have visited me.”

My chest constricts. “Yeah,” I mumble. “You’re probably right.”

Nathan gave me an address for my grandparents, but there’s no guarantee they’ll be here because the landline is disconnected. The cell phone number is questionable because I can’t get an answer, and there is no voicemail set up. However, since I’ve never seen the Grand Canyon, it won’t be a wasted trip, even if they’re not here.

I park the rental car on the tree-lined street and inspect the gray ranch house.

“This is a bad idea,” I mumble, combing my fingers through my hair while checking my teeth in the rearview mirror. They abandoned Dwight. They abandoned me and their daughter. Why do I feel this aching need to meet them?

I check my phone. I’ve checked it every five minutes since the day I walked out of Fitz’s house on Thanksgiving.

Nothing.

I know we’re done, but my heart loves living in denial, so I let it cling to irrational hope just to keep from crying twenty-four seven.

With a brave inhale, I step out of the car and trek up their driveway. After three quick knocks on their door, there’s a long pause—so long that I turn around to leave. And part of me is relieved they’re not home. My nerves are knotted in my stomach.

“Hello?” a stout, gray-haired man says upon opening the door.

I turn. “Hi. Are you Waylon? I’m, uh—”

“Barbara,” he whispers, sliding his thick round glasses up his nose and closer to his brown eyes.

It takes a moment for the sound of my untold name from his lips to sink in. It’s not a guess. He knows it’s my name with certainty. “H-how did you know?”

He opens the creaky door a few more feet. “You look just like your mom.”

My smile falters, tripping over unexpected emotion, but I nod and take a deep breath. “So I’ve been told.” I step inside.

We stare at each other for a few awkward seconds. What do I say now? Everything I sorted out on the way here is nothing but a jumbled mess, like the inside of a suitcase that’s been handled roughly.

I glance around the room, wringing my hands. It’s a modest home with outdated walls covered in wood paneling and light-blue floral wallpaper. Water stains on the popcorn ceiling. Dusty rose carpet.

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