13
RHETT
Dad finally pulled the plug. I’ll call you in the morning.
I had kept the texted news short since exhaustion tempted to drag me under. Turning off and tossing aside my cell, I scrubbed a weary hand over my face, grimacing at the thick scruff I usually kept neatly trimmed. I needed a long, hot shower and a good night’s sleep on the hotel’s mattress where my phone rested.
Dad had ignored my pleas earlier in the day to let her go and once again hadn’t said a word beyond a muttered “No.”
Eventually, I had retired to my hard, plastic chair beside the window in my mom’s hospital room and gave Dad the silence he wanted. Without another plan to move forward, I’d grown more agitated with every passing hour, a sense of helplessness I couldn’t stand looming over my head.
Time had waste
