Page 34 of Tear Me Apart

“I will tell you everything, okay? But I want to do it in person, not on the phone.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No. Just...for Christ’s sake, Juliet, cut me some slack. Come here tomorrow, and let’s talk.”

The uncharacteristic vulgarity surprises Juliet. Lauren doesn’t curse. She doesn’t lose her temper like this. She doesn’t threaten, and she doesn’t speak harshly. The past few weeks are taking their toll.

“On one condition,” Juliet says.

“Fine. What?”

“After you finish explaining, you let me take your deposition that you didn’t know Mindy wasn’t yours. It will help you in the long run, Lauren. You don’t want the investigators looking at this the wrong way.”

Another sigh. “You won’t leave this alone, will you? Trust me. After we talk, there won’t be any need for depositions or investigations. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up, and Juliet is stunned.

What in the hell is going on?

17

VAIL HEALTH HOSPITAL

Lauren hangs up the phone, trying to quell the growing panic that threatens to engulf her. Juliet is going to use her rapier mind to reopen the deepest wound Lauren has, whether Lauren wants her to or not. Her whole world is going to collapse.

She can’t let it happen. She has to stop her sister.

Lauren can hardly believe how much their lives have changed. It is like a waking nightmare, every day pushing them deeper into a labyrinth that has no path out. And now Juliet is going to ruin everything.

Again.

Think. Think!

Lauren returns to Mindy’s room, to the big lounge chair under the cozy blanket, the book she hasn’t read a page of nestled beside her. Her hair is in a messy bun on the top of her head; she is wearing thick shearling Uggs on her feet. There was a time when Lauren wouldn’t leave the house without a shower and full face. Now, she barely manages to drag a brush through her hair. She knows how she looks. Like an unkempt, worn woman. She doesn’t even care.

Mindy sleeps beside her, exhausted, thin, her hair sparse, her collarbones jutting out.

Lauren strokes Mindy’s forearm, rebuilds her child into the girl she remembers.

How her dark lashes used to lie across her cheek—when she had any, that is.

How her muscles gleamed, defined and taut.

How her skin turns the color of warm tea in the summer.

How when Mindy was little, she couldn’t wait for the weekend, because that meant they’d be packing up the car and heading somewhere fabulous to spend the weekend together. They’d ski all the mountains, drink cocoa by the fire, sit in hot tubs to ease sore muscles. Those days were golden. They were perfection.

How her daughter used to want nothing more than to spend all her time with her parents, in their pockets, to the point where they used to take her to her room and hand her a book so she could learn how to have quiet alone time.

Now, the arriving weekend has them back in the hospital overnight because Mindy’s pain was off the charts this afternoon. While her daughter sleeps, drugged and incoherent, Lauren is met with a sleepless night of endless beeping, coughing, cries, fluorescent lights. Snow, too, gray icy snow that batters the windows and leaves them all chilled. Lauren can’t believe they used to spend all their time in it. She never wants to see snow again. If Mindy survives...her mind chokes on that thought, the wail building inside her.

She has to survive.

We have to survive this.

A soft voice interrupts her thoughts. “Mrs. Wright?” The nurse smiles timidly. She is a CA—clinician’s assistant—a new girl, quiet and sweet, with squeaky clean blond hair in a bouncy ponytail.

“I was wondering if you have a minute. Not me, um, Dr. Oliver.”