Page 23 of The Refiner

It takes a moment for Carly to settle the crying baby into the crook of her arm.

A moment for her to move closer to the window.

A moment for my daughter to blink, open her ice-blue eyes and stare right at me.

A moment is all it takes for everything to go dark.

Keagan

Today marks a week since I got the call about Piper, and while I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours hating Astor for stealing my sister’s book yesterday, none of those hours compare to this call I’m having with my boss, Archer. “I understand, sir.”

I understand he is a raging, self-serving asshole.

“I’m glad. You know we’ll do everything to support you during this difficult time.”

I can’t contain the eye roll. “As long as I’m not away longer than my allowed three days of bereavement leave.”

Archer coughs. I guess he thought I gave a shit about being professional. My sister is dying. I couldn’t give eight shits about his feelings right now. “Now, Keagan, that’s not what I said.”

That’s precisely what he said.

“I said you were welcome to take longer, but you would need to call our Human Resources department and file for an extended leave.”

“But that leave isn’t job-protected. Did I get that part right, at least?” This man thinks he can bully me into letting my sister go and settling her estate, all the while kissing my niece goodbye and leaving her in the arms of a stranger. Yeah, I don’t think so.

“Well,” Archer clears his throat, “you would need to ask HR. There might be a program that will allow you to keep your job.”

“Just not my promotion,” I correct.

I’m so tired of the office politics and always being passed over for these men.

“Your new account and project would go to McGee, but you will not lose your promotion unless you’re gone longer than your approved leave.”

Basically, I will lose no matter how much time I need to help my niece and to mourn my sister. My new project. Probably my promotion—Archer will find a loophole to take it from me—and every bit of progress I’ve made atGameTales. I’ll essentially be starting over from scratch—back at the bottom like when I was a college intern. I’ve clawed my way through a man’s playground and finally found a place among them only to possibly lose it.

“Don’t worry about your job, Keagan. Focus on your family. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

He says the words like he’s a concerned supervisor, but I know better. Archer wants me to let my guard down—put my faith in him that my job is secure—so when I get back, he can show me a policy I’ve never seen before and tell me they had to fill my position.

“I’ll speak with HR,” I tell him, “and see you in a few weeks.”

I refuse to lose my sister and my job. Life won’t take everything away from me because I won’t let it.

“Take care of yourself, Keagan.”

I hang up the phone without a parting remark and flip it off. “You hear that, Piper? Ass Face McGee wins again.”

Piper coded last night while I was asleep. The monitors started beeping like crazy. Before I even realized what was happening, a nurse ushered me out of the room as half a dozen doctors and nurses filled the room.

They said Piper’s heart stopped.

But even as they shocked her body and pumped her full of drugs, I couldn’t let her go. Not yet. Instead, I folded over my knees in the hallway and cried until it was over.

Dr. Cox asked me if he could call anyone—someone who could be with me during this difficult time. But there was no one I could name. All the family I had was currently trying to leave me.

I adjust the blanket, tucking it under Piper’s hip. “I wish you would wake up and talk me out of going over toGameTalesand putting eye drops in McGee’s coffee. Maybe Archer’s too. I think they deserve it, don’t you?”

I watch as my sister’s chest rises and falls without a sound. She isn’t going to wake up and tell me no, that giving McGee diarrhea would be tacky and immature. Never again will she scold me for not taking the high road.

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