44. Cole

I pulledinto the San Francisco General Hospital parking garage and wondered if there was a program for preferred parking I could get as a regular visitor. I had spent way too much time here over the past six years. For the last few months of Peter's life, he'd been here. Sara had been by his side while I watched Carly, who was five at the time. I'd brought her here most days to see her dad. Then, once Sara got sick, we'd been frequent flyers. The only good times I'd had at this hospital were when my nephews and niece were born here.

When I got out of my work truck, I glanced down at myself and wiped my hands down my torso. My white T-shirt had several dirt stains. My jeans were dusty. I looked like I'd just walked off a construction site, which I had.

Sara had gone in for a routine checkup this afternoon, and Dr. Miller must have seen something he didn't like because he'd ordered an MRI with dye, blood work, and several other tests, which I only found out after speaking to my niece. I called Carly to see how the appointment went when I couldn't reach my sister, and she told me they were all at the hospital. I'd left work and driven straight here.

The automatic doors opened, and I checked in with the front desk to get my visitor pass. I handed her my license and saw the corner of a wrapper from one of the condoms I'd bought but hadn't used with Bailey, and my chest tightened. A deep ache that had been just below the surface rose to the top of the emotional ocean I'd been drowning in. I missed Bailey. I missed her more than I even knew it was possible to miss someone.

I knew I had it bad when condom wrappers made me feel sappy and sentimental.

A week and a half had passed since she'd given the it's-not-you-it's-me speech, but it felt like it had been a year and a half. The days dragged by. Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like days. Days felt like months. A week felt like a year.

It took every ounce of self-control that I had to respect the boundaries that she'd set. I couldn't count the number of times I'd picked up my phone to call or text her, but I hadn't. I was happy to say I hadn't driven by her home, but I had made two additional stops at Sweet Temptations on the off chance that I'd see her, even if it was only through the window, but, sadly, there were no sightings.

The only link I'd had to her was a few emails from Billie about the house. I was going to be meeting Billie there this weekend, and as much as I wished that Bailey would be there too, I doubted that would be the case. She'd made up her mind that I wasn't the right guy for her.

As much as I knew in my heart that she was wrong, my head wasn't convinced that was the case. I was at odds with myself. One day, I'd be sure that we could overcome any obstacles that might be in our way. The next, I thought she was better off without me. I'd been on an emotional teeter-totter, and it was exhausting.

The second the elevator doors opened on the third floor, where radiology was located, I could hear my nephews. Their voices carried in the long hallways. When I came around the corner, I saw Carly on her phone, and the boys were play fighting with imaginary light sabers, sound effects, and all.

There was another couple in the waiting area, and I doubted they wanted a reenactment of Obi-Wan Kenobi vs. Darth Maul from The Phantom Menace, which was the twins' favorite movie.

"Boys."

That was all I had to say. One word, and they both hopped up on the chairs. They knew better than to be that loud and rowdy in waiting rooms, especially medical waiting rooms, where people are dealing with illnesses that might not be visible to the eye. But they were also five years old and, unfortunately, had spent way too much time in doctor's office waiting rooms.

"Hey C-Dawg." I ruffled Carly's hair. "Is your mom already back there?"

She smoothed down her hair without glancing in my direction. "Yeah."

One-word answers. I'd noticed more and more of those the closer Carly got to being a teenager.

I started to lower myself in a chair when Rita, whom I'd known since coming to radiology with Peter, called out my name. "Cole."

I glanced up.

"You can go back if you want. She's still got about ten minutes before the test."

"Are you okay with the boys?" I asked my niece.

"Yeah," she responded, as if that were the dumbest question ever posed to mankind.

Oh boy. The teen years were going to be so fun.

I looked at the twins, who were now playing on their Nintendo Switches.

"Boys. Best behavior."

Luke gave me a thumbs-up, and Leo didn't answer verbally either, but I knew he'd heard me because he sniffed and lifted his chin up slightly, which had been his preferred form of response the past week or so. I'm assuming he must have seen someone do it in a movie or in real life and thought it was cool. It blew my mind how kids were like little sponges. They soaked up everything. Which was terrifying.

Rita buzzed me in through the door. "She's in 302."

I nodded and headed around the corner. When I got to her room, the door was open, but I tapped my knuckles against the wooden frame as I entered to announce my presence.

Sara was seated on an exam table in a hospital gown with an IV in her arm. She was looking down at the floor as tears flowed down her face. It was always tough for me to see her in a hospital gown with an IV in her arm. I always felt so helpless. But seeing her crying in a hospital gown with an IV was like being kneed in the balls by He-Man.

"Hey," I said quietly to announce my presence because she must not have heard my light knock.

She lifted her head, and her eyes widened in shock. "Cole?!" She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "What are you doing here?"

"I tried to call you, but you didn't answer, so I called Carly, and she said you guys were here."

"You called me?" She sniffed as she retrieved her phone from her purse. She pulled it out and pressed the home button, but the screen remained black. "The battery must have died. Sorry, it's been a crazy day."

Sara put the phone away and lifted her hand to wipe her cheeks once more. I stepped farther into the room and lowered down in the seat that was against the side wall. I took a deep breath to brace myself for what I was about to hear. "So, what's going on?"

Her reaction to that question was not at all what I'd expected. She didn't straighten her shoulders and put on a brave face. She didn't break down sobbing. Her lip didn't quiver. She wasn't stricken with fear and vulnerability.

Instead of any of those things happening, a wide smile spread across her face, and she burst out laughing.

"What?" I asked, looking around. "What am I missing?"

"Sorry." She shook her head before inhaling and exhaling audibly. "I've been like this all day. A total basket case. I keep crying, then laughing. Then laughing, then crying. I just…I can't actually believe what is happening."

She was hysterical. It was worse than I thought. Did she have months to live? Weeks? What the fuck was going on?

I did my best to keep my tone even and calm and not let her see the panic that was gripping me. "What is it? What's happening?"

She reached inside her purse, and I noticed her hands were shaking. She pulled out a large, white envelope and handed it to me. When I opened it, I was expecting to see medical papers, tests, diagnostics, something—anything to give me a clue as to what was going on.

I read the header and then reread it to make sure I had seen it correctly. Fostering the Future. I'd heard the name of the charity at the wedding I'd attended with Charli. Before the wedding started, Charli mentioned to me that Alex Vaughn and his two friends, Maddox and Nick, started it because they'd grown up in the system. From what I understood, they gave out scholarships and small business loans to kids who were in foster care.

Why did Sara have a letter from them?

I continued reading. The first sentence of the letter stated that Sara Crawford had been chosen as the beneficiary of a medical provision grant.

"What is this?"

"It's a grant for people who grew up in the system and have chronic illnesses and their caregivers."

"How did you…" My voice trailed off as I continued reading.

"I applied for it," she answered my unasked question.

"Without telling me?" I was trying to wrap my head around what was going on.

"Yes, I didn't want you to get your hopes up. It's the first year they've had it. Nancy, the nurse at Dr. Miller's office, told me about it a month ago. I didn't know how many people were applying, and I wasn't sure if we would qualify since you work for Vaughn Construction, but they didn't care. They didn't consider it a conflict of interest because I don't work there."

"So, what does this mean?"

"It means you don't have to worry, and I don't have to worry; we don't have to worry about medical debt or medical bills anymore. They took care of all that. It's gone. And not just the medical bills and debt." She reached out and turned the top two pages before pointing at a sum of money at the bottom of the third page that had a lot of zeros in it.

"What is that?"

"It's a lump-sum payment. It's part of the grant for quality of life."

Holy shit. That was some quality of life.

"And it's ours." She started laughing again. "I got this letter a week ago, but I didn't say anything because I wanted to wait until it was actually sitting in a bank account with our names on it."

"Our names?" I lifted my eyes to hers. "This is your money."

She shook her head. "No, it's not. It's our money. The kids and I would not have made it through the past six years without you. You have put your life on hold. You've sacrificed so much. You gave up everything for us. And now you don't have to be a plus one or choose between your contractor's insurance and Carly's cheer."

"How did you…" I hadn't told Sara that I used the money I'd saved for my bond for cheer.

"I'm sick, CJ, but I'm not stupid. I've seen all the things you've done for us, even when you thought I didn't. And as much as I appreciated it, I hated it. I should have been the one taking care of us. Taking care of you." Tears began to pour down her face.

I stood and hugged her. As I held her, the reality of where we were dawned on me again. I didn't care how much money there was sitting in a bank account. I'd give up every dime to make her healthy. Nothing else mattered.

"Okay, but what's going on? Why the MRI?" I asked as I stepped back from her.

"Oh." She wiped her cheeks and then waved her hand dismissively. "Sorry, I should have led with that. It's just all the tests Dr. Miller has been putting off because they weren't covered by insurance. I told him, go for it; do them all. It's all covered now."

Relief washed over me as Lewis, an X-ray tech we'd gotten to know when Peter was sick, came in.

"Hey!" He smiled when he saw me.

"Hi."

His lips curled in a friendly grin as he ignored the fact that Sara was crying. It was clearly something he was used to walking in on patients doing. "We're ready for you, Sara."

"I'll be out with the kids," I told her as I started to walk out.

Sara stood and threw her arms around my neck. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I held her tight and for the first time in a long time, I thought that everything might just be okay.