Page 113 of Danger

It just keeps going.

I don’t know who I’m praying to. Haven’t in a long time. But I do it anyway—quiet, desperate. I pray that if something or someone up there is paying attention, they see her. Seeus. And that they let her find her way back to me.

The balloon disappears into the clouds.

I stay where I am, staring at the empty sky, holding onto the idea that surviving doesn’t always look loud or fast.

Sometimes it just means hanging on and riding out the storm.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

danger

I keep a running tallyof the days that pass in this hospital room on her whiteboard, hoping each day will be the day she wakes up. I squeeze Winnie’s palm just a little, like I’m reminding her not to be late for her own goddamn life.

They’ve turned off most of the machines now. Nothing left but her heart, her lungs, and this new, uneasy quiet where there used to be noise.

It's been a week, Winnie. It's on you, baby. You gotta decide if you're comin' back.

I don’t say it out loud, because if she’s floating out there, lost in whatever kind of dream the drugs and the swelling and the deep-brain sleep have made for her, I don’t want to scare her. I just hope the dreams she’s having are more hopeful than what the world’s offering.

“And you’d never guess it but your mama and I are good friends now. I don’t know why you never invited me over to eat, but she’s made us dinner and brought it here every night. Fisher, too. She told me not to tell you that I beat her in Uno, so I need you to wake up so I can see your face once you hear.”

The funny part is, her mama’s right here, sitting on the other side of the bed, flipping through a glossy magazine without looking at a single page.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she says.

“Bet.”

She shuts the magazine and smiles then reaches across and pats my hand on Winnie’s wrist, then just leaves her hand there.

I get why Winnie turned out like she did: all that softness, that sweet humor, the way she could make you feel like the most interesting person in the room just by listening to you. It had to come from somewhere.

Winnie's mom, Darla, smiles. “You know, when she was little, she used to run a lemonade stand every summer. She’d save every dollar. Come Christmas, she’d tuck the money under the tree and say it was for Santa.”

She lets out a shaky laugh. “She said she felt bad he worked so hard. Thought he deserved something back. Her father and I used it to start a bank account for her.”

“That sounds about right.”

She looks down at her daughter's hand. "It never changed. She thinks she's been helping keep the bakery afloat."

"But she hasn't?"

Her eyes glisten. "Every payment she's made to help us with the bakery, we knew about. I've matched every penny and put it into that same savings account we’ve had for her."

"She doesn't know?"

"She thinks we're drowning." Darla laughs quietly. "Truth is... we're finally coming up for air. These rodeos you've been a big part of, bringing in all those visitors... they've done more for our family than you probably realize."

I scrub a hand across my mouth, buying myself a second to get my shit together.

"Business has been better than it's been in years," she continues. "We've been able to catch up. Pay things off. Hell..." She laughs. "Her father and I are actually talking about retiring sooner. Winnie's been working so hard. She's always been so worried about taking care of us. She never realized we were trying just as hard to take care of her."

She touches Winnie's leg, then squeezes. “But most importantly, Winnie, I need you to wake up so I can talk to you about this young man,” she says. “I’m not just saying that because he’s in the room. But I am saying it because he’s in this room every day, every hour. And he’s handsome.”

I almost choke out a laugh.

“I’m going to run out and get dinner ready. Maybe pie.”