Bree’s phone rang loudly, making her jump. “Sorry.” She dug through her tiny purse, casting an apologetic look toward the couple at the next table over. “Sorry,” she whispered again. Covering one ear, she pressed the phone to the other. “Hello? I’m sorry, who?” Her head popped up, her eyes wide in fright. “I’m on my way.” She stood, gathering her purse.
Owen came halfway out of his seat. “What’s going on?”
“That was the hospital. My mom was in an accident.”
He stood all the way. “Where?”
She rattled off the name of a hospital. He didn’t even know where it was or how long it took to get there.
The waiter appeared. “Is there something I can assist you with?”
“We need to leave immediately.” Owen reached for Bree’s elbow.
“I’ll have your check ready up front.”
Bree chewed her bottom lip and shoved her glasses up on her nose. “I need to walk. I’m going out front.” She hurried off.
Owen rushed to the front only to wait for the server. He tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently. His phone beeped. He fished it out of his pocket to find a text from Bree.
I’ve got a cab. I have to go.
Owen stared at the words in shock. She’d left him? He was trying to pour his heart out, and she left. Couldn’t even wait for him to give her a ride. She just … left.
“I’ve boxed everything up for the two of you.” The waiter presented him with black to-go containers and a self-satisfied grin. Surely he thought he’d done them a great service.
Owen handed over his credit card, signed a slip, and walked into the clear night in a clouded haze. She’d left.
He shook off the feeling of abandonment—her mom was in an accident! She wasn’t trying to get rid of him or block his declaration of love. She was worried about her mom. That’s all that was happening.
He texted her back.I’m in the car, headed your way.
You should go home. I’ll call you when I can.
When I can? Not tomorrow? Not later? But an open-endedwhen I can? Was that all he was to her?
Confused and heart-bruised, he put the car in gear and drove home on autopilot.
Tammy’s family had made up emergencies to separate them too. They’d be on a date and her dad would suddenly have a migraine and need her care. Or her mom would need someone to drive her to the doctor’s office. An emergency every time. It happened often enough that he suspected they made up the ailments. Especially since he’d call later and they’d answer the phone with sunshine in their voice.
Doris had been chill lately—flying under his radar. He’d let his guard down. He flicked his finger against the steering wheel. She could be really hurt. His rational side knew that just because Tammy’s parents had pulled these tricks didn’t mean that Doris would too. Mentally, he understood that. But his subconscious had released all the same fears that he’d dealt with in the past, and he didn’t know how to shut them off.
He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t fight a battle he was going to lose.
Relief rushed through him that he hadn’t been able to tell Bree how he felt. That would have made putting distance between them all that much harder. He needed to step back. To regroup. To see things with clear eyes and not the rosy glasses of love or the dark glasses of a lost love.
If Bree came with an overbearing mother, then he had to let her go. Only time would tell the difference. Time would show how much of a priority she placed on them, and in turn how much of a priority he was in her life.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Bree carried a tray of grilled cheese sandwiches and chocolate milk into the living room, comfort food for her mom, who was laid up with a broken leg.
“Thanks for calling.” Mom hung up the phone. She’d been on with her GP, who had wanted to see her after hearing about the accident. They’d only left his office an hour ago. “The doctor says I’ll be out of commission for a week, and then I should be able to get around with crutches.”
Bree set the tray on the coffee table and helped her mom to sit up higher. She was laid out on the couch with a couple pillows under her leg. “You’re lucky it wasn’t worse.”
“I’m not old enough to break a hip. Not yet, anyway.”
Bree bit her tongue. Her mom had fallen in the shower—or rather, getting out of the shower—and broken her leg just below the knee. She’d army-crawled to the phone and dialed 911. That proved she was tough.