Page 111 of Off The Ice

“Don’t freak out. She had something to do. She wanted me to tell you she’s so, so sorry, but she’ll see you at home later.”

“I drove her here. How the hell did she leave?”

“She Ubered.”

She has to stop fucking doing that.

I ran a hand over my face, weary beyond all hell. “Where’d she go?”

“It’s not my business to talk about.”

“Does this have to do with Dave?”

“What?” Maggie looked affronted. “No!”

“Jesus Christ, Maggie. Just tell me where she is,” I said, hearing the sound of desperation in my voice.

“She’s at the hospital,” she blurted out.

“What?”

“Don’t worry,” Maggie said in a rush. “She’s fine. She’s okay. She didn’t even want me to tell you. She made me promise I wouldn’t.”

Every nerve in my body ignited in alarm. “Why the fuck is she at the hospital?”

“She doesn’t like to talk about it…” Maggie said uneasily.

“What hospital is she at?” I demanded, ready to already be moving in her direction.

“Don’t go there, Liam.” Maggie shook her head. “She wouldn’t want you there.”

“What fucking hospital is she at, Maggie?”

Maggie bit her lip, her resolve wavering.

“Maggie,please,” I begged.

“St. Anne’s, but Liam, I’m serious. Don’t go there. She won’t want you there—“

I was gone before she could finish the sentence.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Cassie

In some ways, my mother was predictable.

She was predictable in her unpredictability. She was predictable in the fact that she had always and would always drink. And she was predictable in the precarious cycle that our lives had always existed in.

She drank, and drank, and drank until we ended up here. In the hospital filled with the sterile smells of latex gloves and decaying bodies.

But I’d always been able to relax here. Breathe a little easier. In some ways, it was like the worst had already happened. When my mom ended up here, it meant the uncertainty of it all was gone, leaving me with a clear head to navigate the situation.

This was the best place for her. She couldn’t drink here, and anything that went wrong they’d be able to take care of. That’s how it had always been.

ButIshould’ve been taking care of her before it got to this point. I should’ve known how bad it was when I stopped hearing from her. Stopped getting angry texts or phone calls begging me for some request or another.

But a sick part of me had beenrelieved.Every time the phone dinged and it wasn’t her name, I felt the tension that had seized me up slowly ebb away.

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