Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
My initial thought is to ask how much this will all cost, but he’s only the doctor, so he won’t know anyway. My next thought is that I’m a horrible fucking daughter to worry about the cost when my mom almost died. I will figure out how to cover whatever the cost is.
“Thank you. I will sign off to have her Baker Acted.”
“Okay, I’ll write up the referral to have her transferred.” He flips through what looks like her chart. “It shows you’re self-pay. I must warn you this is a private facility.” This is exactly what I was afraid of. “They will bill you for the initial consultation, but if they decide to keep her after that, you will have to pay up front. You’ll have a couple people come by so you can fill out and sign some forms, and they can go over everything with you.”
I glance over to Killian who heard everything he said. “Can I go see her now?”
“Yes, but she’s still unconscious.”
I thank him one more time, and then he heads back to wherever he came from.
“You can go ahead and go,” I tell Killian. “I have no clue how long I’m going to be here, but I imagine it will be a while. Thank you so much for everything you’ve done.” I pull him into a hug, and surprisingly he wraps his arms around my waist. My face presses against his chest, and for a moment, I revel in the scent that is Killian. A hint of cologne and a whole lot of just him. I let out a deep cleansing breath. It’s been a long time since I felt safe, but here in his arms, surprisingly, I feel just that.
“Are you sure?” he asks, concerned.
“Yes, thank you.” I’m used to dealing with this on my own, and I can’t let a friendly gesture from Killian change that. All I can count on is myself and that’s not going to change. I might not be able to stand on my own two feet when it comes to living on my own yet, but I’ve never once asked anyone to come to the rescue when it comes to the rest of my life.
Killian nods once. “All right, but if you need anything please call me.” He walks over to the front desk and comes back, handing me a piece of paper with his number on it. “Anything.”
“I appreciate that.”
I watch Killian walk away, then ask which room number my mom is in. The nurse directs me in the right direction and I head back to her room. I should probably call Adrianna and tell her what’s going on, but I don’t want to worry her. She needs to focus on her classes. She’ll just want to drive down to be here when there’s nothing she can do anyway.
My mom’s room is quiet with only the sound of the machines monitoring her. Her color is starting to come back, and she looks so peaceful. My heart clenches at the thought of her waking up. Why can’t the psychiatrists figure out what’s wrong with her? She deserves to be happy, to live a healthy life. One where she doesn’t think her only answer is to kill herself.
Eleven
Giselle
“The quarterly earnings are projected to be up two hundred percent…” Paul, my date for the evening, drones on with his business partner over how much money they’re expected to make this year. I’m trying to focus on what he’s saying, appear like I give a shit about whatever they’re discussing, but I’m finding it hard to focus. It’s been four days since I signed for my mom to be committed to a mental health facility. I’ve applied to several insurance companies, but because of her situation, I keep getting denied. Nobody wants to take on someone with preexisting conditions, especially as extensive as my mom’s. Because she’s still legally married to my father, she doesn’t qualify for state assistance and the government offered insurance won’t cover her stay. I make a note to speak to an attorney about filing for divorce on my mother’s behalf. If the house sells, I need to make sure my father doesn’t get a dime of the money I make from the sale.
Paul’s hand squeezes my thigh, and I look over to him, realizing I’ve been zoning out. I give him a smile, but his brows pinch together. He knows something is up. We’ve been out enough times that he knows me well enough to know I’m not all here. He quirks one brow up, silently asking if I’m okay. I give him another smile and then stand, excusing myself to the restroom. Paul’s business partner stops speaking and looks to his wife, Patricia, to see if she needs to use the restroom…because apparently women can’t use the restroom on their own. She stands as well and follows me down the hall. We both enter our stalls. I go pee and then wash my hands. While I’m drying them, I feel my phone vibrate in my clutch. I pull it out to make sure it isn’t Serenity calling—the behavioral health facility my mom’s in.