Page 120 of Undeniably Corrupt

Rina is silent for a very long moment, and then she says, “Yes. I can do that. Do you need me to do something? Are you in trouble?”

“I just need Katy, and I don’t want to say more than that.” Because I won’t involve more people than I have to. I’m already sick at the idea of including Katy, but she told me she’d be here if Hazel or I ever needed anything, and right now, Hazel needs her.

“Okay. But just so you know, I’m here tomorrow morning starting at seven a.m., and it’s not just me who will be here in a position to help, if you know what I’m saying.”

I close my eyes and release a breath. “Thank you. I hope I won’t need that.”

“Hold, please.”

I wait and I hold, and a solid five freaking minutes later, Katy is on the landline. “This is Dr. Lawson.”

“Katy, it’s Liora.”

“Hey.” A pause. “Um. What’s going on? Why did you call me through the SICU?”

Because I’ve learned a few things over the years about how to hide what you don’t want others to know. “I need you to text me in a few minutes and tell me that Willow has been wanting to play more with Hazel. I need you to take her for the night. I’m going to fight you on it because our girls are so young and far from the age for a sleepover, but you have to insist. I know this is a huge?—”

“It’s done. Hazel is always welcome, and I have a bed she can sleep in. Are you safe? Is Vander okay?”

My eyes pinch closed, and I fight my tears. They won’t help me. “I’m working on it. But you can’t tell him, Katy. I know that’s another huge thing, and I wouldn’t ever ask you to keep something from him, but it has to be like this.”

“I’ve got Hazel.”

I choke down my sob. “Thank you.”

“If you need more, we’re here. All of us.”

I inhale a shaky breath. “It’s something I have to do myself and should have done a long time ago. But thank you. More than I can express, thank you.”

“Always. There isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for Vander. And you.”

She disconnects the call, and I climb out of the chair and return to my office to get myself ready to leave for the day. Katy does her thing. I get a slew of texts that I fight, and then a call from her where she demands I bring Hazel over to her house for the night. She even tells me not to bother packing a bag because she has everything Hazel will ever need and more for their overnight. She asks about ice cream, and I laugh and say Hazel will love it.

It's all so sweet and fun and playful, even if it’s my two-and-a-half-year-old daughter going to a sleepover with her bestie about eight years before she should.

I pick up Hazel at the daycare and start spouting a million fun things about sleeping at Willow’s. Hazel’s excited. She thinks this is an adventure, but she’s also a little wobbly and will miss me.

“I’ll be there first thing in the morning to pick you up,” I beam, kissing her cheek as I walk us through the garage toward the car Vander purchased for us while pretending he already owned it. “It’ll be so much fun. But if you don’t want to go?—”

“No!” Hazel jumps twice, raggedly pulling on my hand that’s holding hers. “I want to, I want to.”

“Okay, but if you need me overnight, I’ll come get you.”

Hazel climbs up into her seat and starts singing a new song she learned today in daycare. And like the smiling, happy, oblivious mom that I am, I drive Hazel out to the south end of Boston and reluctantly drop her at Katy’s.

“Ah! Thank you!” Katy exclaims. “This is going to be the best. We’re getting pizza and are going to watch movies with ice cream and popcorn.” Willow comes running over, and then a second later, Hazel follows her into the house without so much as a goodbye, and my heart goes into V-tach. It’s not beating a perfusive rhythm. I want to grab her and run again but no more flight.

I hide my heartache behind my smile. “Thank you.”

Katy holds her happy expression. “Be safe, okay?”

“I’m hoping it’s just?—”

“I’ve got it and her. Take care of you.”

“And him,” I tell her and give her a hug.

I climb into my car, but I see him. He’s there. As I expected. He’s not even trying to hide from me, which is perfect. No more hiding. I have no intention of driving back to Vander’s, so I weave through Boston a bit, building my nerve up.