Page 100 of Where You're Planted

“I can see that she’s good here,” he said, pulling his keys from his pocket and heading for the door. “You’re a great mom. I never doubted that.”

“Thank you. So—”

He turned back from the door with a little shrug. “So let me know when she can visit this summer. Same as we agreed before all this.”

“I will.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and Tansy hadn’t realized until that moment how worried she’d been about him withholding his approval. She sagged against the counter with relief.

Her footfalls were loud in the silent house as she turned out the lights in the kitchen and living room. She got herself ready to sleep. Then she quietly opened Briar’s door and slipped into bed with her daughter.

30

Jack

Jack knew better but found himself nonetheless in front of the new retaining area the city had dug out where Tansy’s neighbors’ house had once been. A 4Runner with a Dallas Mavericks decal was parked in Tansy’s driveway. Still.

Jack didn’t know what specifically he’d planned todowhen he turned into her neighborhood. He’d assumed Charlie had gone home hours ago, so maybe he’d been hoping for a light in her window? Or a lack of light, which might have indicated that she was exhausted by the day’s events and had gone to sleep early, andthatwas why she was ignoring the few texts he’d given in to sending. He honestly didn’t know. But he definitely wasn’t expecting the reason for her silence to be thather ex was still here.

He clenched the steering wheel to keep from charging up onto her porch. This—coming here—was a giant red flag, especially after she’d been so clear that she needed space.

“Go home, asshole,” he told himself sternly in the rearview mirror.

Reluctantly, he eased off the brake.

His phone rang through his truck speakers. It was Omar’s name on the display screen. He sent the call to voicemail and immediately drove out of Tansy’s neighborhood.

The ringing started again.

“What?” he answered impatiently.

“Hey,” Omar said, and there was something not right in that single syllable that sent the hairs up on the back of Jack’s neck.

“What’s wrong?”

“Amy’s…” Omar huffed a shaky breath right into the mouthpiece, sending a loud whoosh through Jack’s speakers.

“Amy’swhat?” Jack demanded. He blew through a stop sign, only realizing when a car horn wailed.

Omar spoke, but he sounded distant, like he’d pulled the phone away to speak to someone else. Jack caught the tail end of him saying, “Coming right now.”

“Omar, Amy’s what?” Jack repeated.

“Sorry. She’s in labor. I’m getting scrubs now to go into the OR.”

“OR?” Jack’s stomach fell to the floorboard. It was early. He did the math—nearly four weeks early. “What hospital?”

“Memorial Hermann. Downtown. I gotta go.”

“Is she—” Before Jack could finish his question, the call ended, and the oldies station that Tansy had tuned his radio to resumed playing faintly.

Jack whipped a U-turn and sped toward downtown.

—

His mad dash to thehospital took thirty minutes and then he ran down endless corridors from the parking garage to the mother and baby wing, only to get roadblocked by security and stuck in the waiting area. It was after visiting hours. Omar wasn’t responding to Jack’s texts, which wasn’t very surprising if Amy was in surgery, but the lack of information about her status had him panic-pacing through the empty rows of chairs while a TV repeated the same twenty slides about the hospital’s innovative techniques and world-renowned doctors.

Shortly after he’d gotten to the hospital, Tansy had finally replied to his texts.

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