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“This is him,” I respond in a clipped tone. “She okay?”
“Oh, yes. She’s had a good day. She’s been asking about you, asking if you think it’s time she comes home—”
“It’s too soon,” I say quickly, cutting her off. “I’m not in a position where I can be with her right now, and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her alone. She’ll stay there until, well, until I can figure out a better plan.”
The woman on the other end of the line takes a breath and pauses for a few beats before responding.
“I understand, Mr. Knox. We will continue to offer her the best care, of course. May I offer you my thoughts?”
I have to force myself not to reply with a smart-ass remark. Something along the lines of, “I don’t pay you for your thoughts. I pay you to take care of Wrenlee and make sure she doesn’t fucking hurt herself.”
I swallow the words, though, and instead, I manage a considerably more decent response.
“Go for it.”
The woman clears her throat. “Wrenlee is a troubled girl, we both know that, but I think right now, what she really needs to heal is to be with people who love her. She’s so young, and I hate to watch what little bit of light remains in her eyes get snuffed out in a place like this.”
I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks in response to her words, anger pulsating through me.
“I pay good fucking money to you people. Do you understand that? I pay you to make sure that her light doesn’t go out again. That’s your job. If what you’re telling me is that I need to have her moved to somewhere better, say the word, and I’ll have a driver there in an hour.”
“No, sir, I only meant that–-”
I cut her off again.
“You think I don’t want what’s best for Wren? Is that it? That I don’t care about her? She’s all I have left, and I’ll be damned if I let some stranger tell me what’s best. Wrenlee is exactly where she needs to be.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“Good. Once this tour is finished, I’ll come to visit her, and once I’ve met with her doctor,” I accentuate that last word, “only then will I make the decision about what comes next.”
“Of course, Mr. Knox. I apologize for overstepping.” The woman’s voice is much quieter now.
I click the button to hang up the call and slam the phone back down on the table.
“Fuck!” I yell out before collapsing onto the bed.
Memories of that day flood my mind, and tears prick at my eyes.
“Wrenlee?” I call out, the empty condo echoing my words back to me. “Wrenlee?”
My heart pounds in my ears as I throw open each door, looking for her.
Please don’t do this. Please don’t fucking do this.
“Wrenlee?” This time it’s more of a wail.
Her bedroom is the one on the right, I think.
I grab the handle and try to open the door, but it’s locked.
“I know you’re in there. Open the fucking door!”
“P-please, Ryan, just go. I’m f-fine, I promise, just go.”
Her sobs make it hard to get through the sentence, and now the urgency to get through that door is even worse.
I slam my body against the wood, the walls rattling around the frame.
