Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
With each mile I drove away from the town, I felt anxiety creeping up my spine, wrapping around my throat, making it hard to breathe.
It was silly to imagine that anyone was going to see me, pull out of a parking lot somewhere, chase me down, and drag me back to my own personal hell.
On a bike, nonetheless.
That didn’t stop me from tensing each time I heard the rumble of a motorcycle, though.
I’d gotten used to the sound again in Shady Valley, since the only people who actually rode on them were Rook’s club brothers. But outside of that safe zone, I was feeling antsy and paranoid, checking my mirrors, putting on big sunglasses, avoiding eye contact with any bikers who came up beside me.
By the time I pulled into the parking lot of the mental health facility, I was starting to feel like I should be asking if they had a bed for me.
“Relax,” I demanded, taking a few steadying breaths before reaching into the car for the gifts. I didn’t want to get turned away because I had that wild-eyed, losing-my-shit look. This was too important to Rook.
The building itself was a relatively small sandstone one with only two stories. But what the structure itself lacked in charm, it did kind of make up for with the lush, sprawling gardens with their intricately shaped hedges and bright purple, yellow, and red flowers.
At least the patients had nice views, I figured as I made my way inside.
Though any nice thoughts kind of flew out of my head as I walked into the dark, low-ceilinged lobby with its furniture straight out of a ‘90s dentist’s office.
That said, the woman at the front desk was friendly and efficient as she searched through the gifts to make sure there wasn’t anything contraband.
“Technically, I shouldn’t let you bring in outside food,” she said, holding up the little wrapper of the caramel pecan clusters Rook said his mother could never get enough of. “But if you take the wrapper out with you, it can be our little secret.”
I thanked her, got my badge, assured her I left my phone in the car, then was directed down a depressing hallway that eventually led toward a slightly less depressing common area.
Some of the patients were easily identifiable by their slippers, pajamas, or robes. Others, though, seemed to be wearing their own clothing as they sat and chatted with one another or visitors.
I made my way over toward another desk where a pretty blonde-haired nurse sat, keeping an eye on the goings-on.
“Hi! My name is Tessa. I’m here to visit with Lorna—”
“Oh, you’re Rook’s new wife!” the nurse, Amy, said, and I was reasonably sure this was the nurse who occasionally called Rook with updates about his mom, even though it was against the rules.
“Yes.”
“Oh, that’s great. I’m sure Lorna will love having a visitor. Here, I’ll show you to her room.”
“How is she doing?” I asked as we walked.
“She’s definitely a lot better with her new balance of meds. She’s out of her mania. We haven’t seen any signs of hallucinations or delusions. She’s definitely very medicated right now—”
“Understandably,” I said, thinking of what Rook told me about how she’d been behaving before they decided to change her meds again.
“Yes. It’s a long process to try to get the ratios right. Her doctors are thinking of lowering the dose of her antidepressants slightly to see if that helps motivate her to get out of bed. She’s definitely sleeping a lot. But we did manage to get her to go down to art therapy yesterday.”
Rook was going to love hearing that.
“Oh, wow. I didn’t realize she was functioning so well. Is that a first since she’s been here?”
“There were… two short periods where her team thought she was on the road to release. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. But we’re all very hopeful now. This has been a lot of progress in a short amount of time.”
The nurse stopped outside of an open doorway. Lorna, it seemed, did not get a closed door. But she did have a private room.
“Lorna, you have a visitor! Go ahead in, honey. And talk to her. Even if she doesn’t seem like she’s listening, she is.”
“Okay. Thank you,” I said, giving her a smile. “Rook wanted me to tell you how much he appreciates that you’ve kept him in the loop. Considering…”
“That parole officer of his is a stone-cold b-word. But you didn’t hear that from me,” she said, zipping her lips, then turning to walk away.
Lorna’s room was somehow even more depressing than the lobby had been.
The bed itself was a solid platform made of some sort of hard rubber material. There was even a rocking chair made of that same material. Nothing, I figured, she could break off to use to harm herself or someone else.