Brian stops at a Walmart.

He parks the car. “I’d tell you to come in with me, but I think the backless hospital gown is going to get some odd looks.” He grins. “Maybe even get you arrested. Indecent exposure and all that.”

I laugh. “I wasn’t thinking about clothes when you wheeled me out of the ward. But, yes. I need some. I can pay you back.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t mention it.”

His

gaze

rakes me from head to toe, like he’s seeing beneath this thin cotton gown. I hold my breath.

“Keep the truck running,” he says. “And the doors locked. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

In this part of the country, there aren’t many stores and this late at night, I’m grateful he thought

clock says 9:43 which gives at least two hours until my father’s

from my family’s packlands. It’ll be close, but I don’t see any

unbuckle the seatbelt to get more comfortable, and I feel something heavy beside me. It’s my phone, in the pocket of this hideous

Adam. But

me with so many

much hurt.

be honest with me.

my father-and all for what? Because I threatened to divorce him? It seems so petty now, especially if our marriage

phone and it

into voicemail or anything like that. But I have no intention of answering. No matter how many times he calls.

the feeling, knowing that he’s trying

Why?

can he

driver’s side

the phone

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