Page 70 of Healing You
His mouth went dry.
“Steve.” A shattered breath came from his right and Yvonne's hand drifted on top of his at the steering wheel. Looking into her face, he got lost in those hazel eyes for a half-second. “Please. Save my dog.”
Her hand squeezed his, and it was all the push he needed as his foot hit the accelerator.
Yvonne sat in the waiting room for what felt like a lifetime. In reality it had only been a bit more than an hour... and Ronnie hadn't left her side once. A flash of awful déjà vu—the day Gatsby was diagnosed with cancer while she sat in the same chair—slammed into her.
The turquoise bandana was damp from water they had poured on it to try to keep him cool in the heat. Yvonne jumped out of her seat, pacing across the waiting room for the third time that hour.
“Why don't you sit down and try to relax?” Ronnie tapped her palm against the chair beside her.
Yvonne shook her head. “I can't. I can't relax. What's taking so long?” After another few laps back and forth across the room, she resumed her seat beside Ronnie. “What have I done?”
“You can't blame yourself for this.”
“Why not? I planned this stupid 10K at the height of summer. I'm the one who took Gatsby along on my run.” Another bubble of guilt rose in her throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing Gatsby’s pain away. It was all too similar. The guilt that grabbed hold of her like a riptide, threatening to pull her back under water. No one wanted to blame her, but deep down she knew better. She was the risk taker. She was the one who loved extreme sports, and her loved ones just got swept up in the process and dragged down with her.
“In every situation, there's something we all could have done differently,” Ronnie answered. She didn't offer any empty clichés or trite remarks about how it would all be okay.
No, that wasn't Ronnie Tripp's style. She simply sat there, her hand closed over Yvonne's or with a strong arm draped reassuringly across her shoulders, and gave her all her strength that she was capable of sharing. She sat with quiet resolve, her fingers entwined with Yvonne's.
“Yes, but in those situations, if you could go back and do it all again—”
“But you can't.” Ronnie turned to look directly at her. Those blue eyes a slightly darker shade than Steve's. Like the deepest sections of the ocean, and nearly as rough and tumultuous. She shrugged and repeated that. “You can't. Why waste time thinking about it?”
Yvonne narrowed her eyes, her tears clearing from her vision like clouds parting on a foggy day. “Because we can learn from our mistakes, Ronnie.”
She nodded. “We can. But instead of looking back, I prefer to apologize and look forward.”
Yvonne arched an eyebrow at that. “You do?”
Ronnie squeezed her hand. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “Despite your teenage drama with my brother, I should have come to see you in the hospital. I shouldn't have abandoned you.”
A whole new set of tears slammed into her. “Thank you. And I'm sorry, too—”
Ronnie rolled her eyes, then softened it with a smile. “You and I both know that I don't deserve that apology from you. My brother did, but he deserves to give one as much as he deserves to get one.”
“Oh. My. God.” Kyra stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear. “Am I seriously seeing what I think I'm seeing?” Arms open, she charged toward them like a bull seeing red. “Are my two best friends talking again?”
Ronnie hugged Kyra back, looking at Yvonne from around her shoulders. “Thank God I have someone to help me deal with this girl now.”
Kyra pulled out of the hug, delivering a playful kick to Ronnie's shins. “How's Gatsby?”
Yvonne's momentary bout of happiness faded fast as she shrugged. “I don't know.” She looked out the window to where the party was in full swing. “Who's taking care of the adoption paperwork? Carrie can't do it all alone.”
“Your parents. They heard about Gatsby and offered to take my place behind the table.”
“My parents? Are volunteering?”
Kyra nodded. “They would have come in to check on you, but your mom said you probably preferred to see me.”
“Well, she's not wrong about that,” Yvonne sighed. As much as she loved her mother, Kyra was much better in a bad situation.
Kyra plopped down in the seat next to her. “I think Callie's falling in love with Ruckus. And your mom's been holding a little fluffy white poodle looking dog all morning. She won't let her walk in the grass for fear that she might break a nail.”
“Shut up. She did not say that.”
Kyra smiled, winking at Ronnie. “Okay, maybe not that exactly. But she hasn't put the dog down in an hour.”
