Page 154 of The Ampersand Effect

In an instant, Tobin had her in her arms, bearing both her mass and her emotions. Tobin held her while she cried, trying to shelter her from the campers—especially Delta. Across the booth, Anchor caught Tobin’s eye, her expression asking if she should intervene. With a single curt shake of her head Tobin was able to stop her approach, garnering Grier some privacy, then tipped her chin toward the campers. Anchor understood her meaning and drew their attention to her and away from the unfolding grief.

Grier began shifting in her arms. She pushed herself away and swiped at her cheeks as she began constructing a false exterior of strength. Tobin watched as she hardened her features and dabbed at the streaked mascara beneath her eyes.

“I—I need to go to the hospital. I need to be with Molly.” Tobin patted her back pocket where she kept her key fob, confirming it was there. “I can drive you.”

“No—can you… can you take Delta home?” Grier began moving, gathering her keys from one of the foldable chairs where she’d left them. Her movements were glitchy, repeating her frantic actions—her body operating on autopilot while her brain was already miles down the road.

“I’ll call Grant and let him know what’s going on. She’s been looking forward to this all summer, and I don’t want to ruinit for her.” Sad amber eyes blinked up at Tobin, and she could tell Grier was still fighting to keep her emotions in check. Tobin wished she could wrap her in her arms and let her unravel, to give her the security of her love in the face of such heartbreak. But she knew Grier needed to react right now, and that she wouldn’t allow herself to be comforted until she had eyes on Jonah.

Tobin watched helplessly as Grier kept returning to the chairs, trying to locate items she’d already stuffed into her pockets. Her heart ached at the sight, like watching a streaming video skip and repeat over the same thirty-second segment after failing to load properly.

She walked over and gently caught Grier’s hand mid-air as it reached for the cupholder in one of the chairs. Tobin brought it to her chest, encasing it with her other hand. Grier’s eyes met hers, frantically tracing her face for a comfort she had no right to give.

“You have your keys and your phone in your pockets, Cinderella,” Tobin said softly, trying to soothe her.

Grier’s shoulders fell with the realization that her erratic behavior was on full display. Tobin couldn’t bare it. She gently squeezed Grier’s hand between her own and brought it to her lips for a soft kiss, hoping it would offer even the slightest comfort.

“I’ll get Delta home. Go be with Jonah and his family. Text me when you get to the hospital, please—I’m worried about you driving right now.”

Tobin watched as Grier’s cheeks flushed with unspent emotion, her lashes blinking furiously against another round of tears.

“Thank you,” was all she could whisper before Tobin felt the faintest squeeze of her hand and then a break in their contact.

Grier practically ran to the parking lot. It was a stretch of immeasurable moments before Tobin realized she was staring at the empty trail where Grier had disappeared.

Anchor silently appeared beside her. “Is she okay? Are you?”

Still staring into the absence, Tobin nodded curtly. She couldn’t share details with Anchor, but she valued their relationship as something more than a simple acquaintanceship, and she knew the woman asked out of genuine concern. Regardless of how the question made her bristle at the intrusion, Anchor had a right to an answer.

“Yes—work emergency. We’re both fine.”

She turned to Anchor then, unwilling to let her thoughts linger on Grier’s absence or dwell on the possibilities of Jonah’s outcomes. “Put me to work, boss.”

Tobin was fidgeting across from Nadia. Her nerves were frayed; the emotional whirlwind of the last week had taken its toll. The situation was compounded by the fact that she was leaving for Iceland in about a week—and her mind was solely focused on Grier.

They hadn’t seen each other since the farmers market, and they’d barely talked or texted since. Every second of Grier’s time was consumed with Jonah. Or Molly. Or meetings with Dr. Miles, the hospital ethics board, and CPS. Grier tried to check in, which Tobin appreciated, but she was distracted—and it was obvious.

Tobin understood. But understanding didn’t make it comfortable.

Tobin had heard from Grier just enough to learn that Dr. Vanders had been placed on probation and removed from the hospital. But his actions against Molly—through misrepresentation to the CPS caseworker—were harder to correct. That claim now required painstaking scrutiny to evaluate and rectify. In a system that was notoriously burdened with too many cases and too few caseworkers… well, it was going to take time.

And time was not on their side.

For now, Grier had shared that Haleigh had volunteered to act as Jonah’s Healthcare Provider Authority, and she had conspired to act only as Molly directed. But Tobin didn’t have to be told that was only a small comfort to a mother whose rights had been stripped while she was losing her son to cancer.

Tobin squeezed the top of her knee, trying to quiet the anxious bouncing her leg was performing against her will. She knew Nadia was watching her, staunchly refusing to coax anything out of her. Nadia had made it clear that Tobin needed to express herself of her own volition—teasing it out wouldn’t help her build the skills to communicate openly in her relationships. Tobin knew she was right, but that didn’t mean she was miraculously void of the vulnerability Nadia’s direction required.

“She’s so hurt, and so… consumed by Jonah and work. I want to give her the space for that.”

Tobin knew she was right—but she also knew she was deflecting. She was using Grier’s grief as an excuse to withhold her own feelings. And she knew Nadia was going to call her on her bullshit.

“Giving her space and giving her asafespace are mutually exclusive in this case, Tobin. Which one are you trying to accomplish? Because you can’t do both and get the same results.”

She inhaled deeply, trying to steady her heart—it was the only physiological phenomenon she felt she might control at this point.

“I… it wouldn’t be fair to tell her how I feel right now. She’s… got too many emotions to deal with—I’d feel selfish adding to her mess.”

Nadia’s expression remained stoic, save for the one thin eyebrow she raised in inquisition—inquisition that felt a hell of a lot like accusation from where Tobin was sitting.