Page 180 of Falling Offsides

Why the hellare hospitals so goddamn difficult?

“I just need to see my mom.” The words come out as nasally snorts because I’ve been doing this for almost an hour and every fucking person I talk to refuses to give me a crumb of information. “Catherine Nolan. She was brought in with a TBI and spleen laceration and?—”

“Courtney?”

I spin so fast, I almost trip over my feet. “Verna… hi…”

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Verna, my favorite nurse from the pediatric cancer unit, engulfs me in a hug. “My goodness, you’re shaking.”

“My mom. She was in an accident and now… no one will tell where she is or how she is…”

“Come with me, sweetie,” she croons, manoeuvring me back to the desk without releasing me. “Hey, Kate, this is Courtney Nilsson, she was a volunteer on my ward before she went off to college. Do you think you could check how her momma is doing? As a favor? To me?”

Kate types something into the system and then waltzes off . “I need to go check on some forms.”

“Okay, Missy...” Brown eyes blink at me with a friendly smile before she checks the computer.

As Kate is returning,Verna rounds the desk and takes my hand. Her badge swinging is like a nervous tic as she leads me past another nurses’ station.

“Your momma’s stable. They moved her from recovery to the ICUnot too long ago. There’s a no visitors note, but I’m sure it doesn’t apply to her daughter.”

My lungs are tight. My palms clammy. But for the first time in six hours—six hours of gut-punch waiting, of pacing and praying and promising things to the universe—I start to believe I might see my mom.

Until a too familiar voice stops me in my tracks.

“Where do you think you’re taking her?”

Martin.

The air freezes in my throat. My body nearly topples over my legs.

He’s standing there in one of his expensive suits, arms crossed, with a callous sneer on his face.

“Miss Nilsson’s going to see her mother,” Verna says, sharp but careful.

“No, I don’t think so.” Cold eyes narrow on mine. He takes a step forward, blocking the open doorway behind him. “No one goes in without my permission.”

“This is Mrs. Nolan’s daughter…”

“I know, and I’m Mr. Nolan, her husband,” he cuts in. “I have power of attorney, and I say she’s not welcome in my wife’s room.”

“She’s my mother, I don’t need your permission to see her,” I snap before I can stop myself.

He turns to Verna. “If you don’t escort her out right now, I’ll report you. You can explain to your supervisor why you brought an unwanted liability to disrupt my wife’s recovery.”

Verna hesitates as she turns to me. God, I can see her frustration in her face, but hospital politics are a special kind of cruel. Something Martin exceeds at with his rich-white-man confidence.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Really, Courtney, I?—”

“Don’t,” I breathe. “Don’t be sorry.”

Verna wraps an arm around me as she guides me away, eyes lowered.

“Is your number the same?” I nod, incapable of speech. “I’ll keep an eye on how she’s doing and let you know if anything changes. Main thing is that your momma’s stable.”

I stumble outside and collapse onto the sun-bleached bench by the entrance. I don’t know what to do as I dig for my phone. Of course, it’s dead. It died while I was on the phone with Dad earlier and I don’t have a charger with me because I left my camera bag at the facility. I just left when he told me Mom had been in an accident and was at the hospital. I grabbed my backpack and headed straight for the airport.

Now all I have is a dead phone, my wallet, and a snack bag with a squashed muffin that Auguste snuck in there for later.