Page 84 of The Secrets We Bury

Thankfully, though, thirty minutes and an untold amount of probing questions later, my mom is bundled into a wheelchair and clutching her prescription in hand as I roll her through the double doors towards the waiting room of the hospital. Juliet remains quiet and a step behind us as we leave the building.

“The insurance company will be sending me a rental in a few days,” Mom chatters on. “Thank goodness there were traffic cameras to prove I wasn’t at fault—not that it wasn’t clear from the damage, but you know how those stingy insurance people can be.”

“Well, you won’t need to drive anywhere for the foreseeable future,” I reply as Lex and Gio go to grab the SUV. “The doctor said you’re staying home for the weekend.”

“Three days.” She groans. “I’m sure when I do come back, they’ll have me sitting at the desk and refuse to let me move around much.”

“As they should,” I remind her. “You were in an accident.”

“It was a little one,” she insists. “I was lucky.”

“Lucky?” I jump a little at Juliet’s voice and turn to look at her.

Her eyes are locked on my mom’s wrist—the one in the cast. Mom laughs and waves it around. “Oh yeah, it could have beenmuch worse, honey. My arm could’ve been broken, but it’s only a fracture.”

“Yeah.” Juliet’s face looks a little green. “You’re right.”

“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, stepping towards her. I raise my hand to touch her forehead, but she backs up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Despite her words, her arms come up and wrap around herself as if to ward off a chill. It’s pretty cool outside, but it’s not snowing yet and she’s wearing a loose jacket that had seemed to keep her pretty warm at the game.

The lights of Lex’s SUV roll around the corner and the vehicle stops at the curb. Gio pops out of the passenger seat and widens the door as I help my mom stand and usher her into the front.

“This is so ridiculous. I’m not an invalid, boys,” she protests as I hold out my hand. “The wheelchair is a policy—not really necessary.”

Her complaints are ignored as I help her into the car. Once she’s strapped in and buckled, I close the door behind her and turn to Juliet. “What’s wrong?” I demand.

Gio’s eyes widen and he glances between us. “What’s wrong with what?” he asks.

Juliet looks back at me silently. Then her gaze shifts to the vehicle where my mom waits for us. “Not here,” she mutters, cutting past me to the back seat.

I watch her go with narrowed eyes and Gio frowns. Juliet pops open the back seat and slides straight to the middle. I want to yank her back out and demand she tell me what’s going on, but one look at my mom and I know Juliet’s probably right. When we get her alone, then we can deal with whatever she’s thinking.

Gio hops into the back seat right behind my mom as I round the car and slide in behind Lex. Mom chatters aimlessly, asking how Lex is doing in school and thanking him for driving her home and asking after G’s mom. They’re all too happy to keepher focused on the short trip, leaving me to stare at the woman next to me as a sneaking suspicion creeps into my mind.

By the time we pull up to my house, I’m ready to drag Juliet to a quiet place and force a confession out of her. Unfortunately, I have other responsibilities first—such as getting my mom into the house and set up in her room with a glass of water and the first pill down her throat.

“I really don’t need it, Nolan,” she huffs as I fluff the pillows at her back. “I’m just fine.”

“The doctor gave them to you for a reason,” I insist. “If you don’t take one then I’ll stuff it down your throat if I have to.”

Mom glares at me. “I should take a switch to your behind, Nolan Pierce.”

“I’ll happily bend over for it if you take your damn medicine,” I say, holding out a glass of water and the prescription bottle.

She uncrosses her arms and reaches for it. I release it easily enough, lips twitching as she struggles to open it. After long seconds of increasing frustration on her part, she holds it back out to me with a meaningful glare. I take it without a word, knowing that had I just opened it in the first place, she would’ve complained about me treating her like an invalid. Quickly snapping open the bottle, I shake one horse-sized pill from the container into her free hand. Popping the pill into her mouth and chugging half the glass, she puts it back on the nightstand.

“There,” she says. “Happy?”

“Immensely,” I deadpan.

As I reach to turn off her lamp, she stops me with a hand to my wrist. “Nolan, I really am all right,” she says, her voice softer than before.

For a moment, I can’t say anything. When I’d heard she’d been hurt, all I’d been able to think of was all the things I’d do, everything I’d bargain with to make sure she was safe. Knowing she was lucky and relatively unhurt puts me at ease, but thatinitial panic is still in my system. All of the what-ifs of our circumstances circle around and around in my head.

What if she hadn’t been as lucky?

What if the other driver had hit her dead-on instead of on the side?