Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

“Do you think I’ll recognize her?” she asks, not looking away from the family of four that looks to be sharing a quiet, happy moment on the other side of the waiting room. A young mother with her three small children, in fact. What are the odds?

“I’m not sure, darlin’,” I answer honestly, reaching over to take her hand in mine. “There’s nothin’ wrong with not recognizin’ her, Quinn, so stop worryin’ yourself over it. You were too young when she left to have a clear picture of her like your brothers do, and you can’t fault yourself for not havin’ pictures to remember her by.”

She looks up, the fear in her eyes making them look murky. “Shouldn’t a daughter be able to feel a connection to the woman who birthed her? What if I don’t have that?”

I squeeze her hand. “Then you don’t, baby. That’s not on you. Would you be able to pick your brothers out in a crowd?”

“I could find them with my eyes closed,” she confirms breathily.

“Then, Grease, your heart knows what’s important.”

She nods, looks back at the young family in the corner, and nods again to herself. I leave her to her thoughts and pray that what happens this afternoon doesn’t hurt her more than heal.

A week ago, she showed up at the office just after lunch. I was in an examination room with a patient, but Gladys pulled me aside when I stepped out for the woman to get undressed and told me that Quinn was waiting in my office. I could tell by looking at Gladys that whatever brought Quinn here was unusual. Gladys looked troubled and concerned.

I don’t think I’ve ever finished a yearly exam quicker. Even my nurse, Rebecca, looked at me like I was insane.

I found Quinn smiling through her tears in my office, and after I frantically tried to get out of her what was going on, she said she went to see Maverick and that he was on board with her seeing their mama and would set things up.

By the next day, I’d rescheduled my patients and made all the travel arrangements. Quinn hadn’t wanted to wait, but I purposely set up a weeklong gap between her talk with Maverick and us getting to California so that she’d have time to really make sure this was what she wanted. I didn’t do it to talk her out of it, but to give her a safety net if she wanted it.

Clearly she didn’t, because we’re sitting in the middle of a Los Angeles facility for the mentally ill and those medically incapable of caring for themselves.

“Ms. Davis?” the nurse calls, pulling me from my thoughts, and I stand quickly as Quinn scrambles nervously to her feet. She reaches behind her, blindly searching for my hand, and I instantly grab hold and tighten my grip. “We’ve got your mother ready in the green room. It’s one of the favorites amongst our patients. Nice and soothing, with a tropical theme.”

Quinn hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t speak. I can feel a slight tremble in her hand, and I know I need to do something to ease her mind before she walks into the unknown.

“I don’t know how much your brother told you about your mother’s health. I’ve been here for about two years and I wish I could say things were better, but she’s gotten a lot weaker lately. She won’t be able to talk to you, but I assure you that she can hear what you’re saying. She’s quite the fighter, that one,” the nurse recites in a monotone, as though she’s rehearsed this speech a thousand times before.

I don’t roll my eyes, but inside I’m ashamed that this woman can’t at least act like she isn’t reading a manual on how to deal with patients’ families. I know just how bad off Quinn’s mother is, because I had Maverick get her medical history sent to me. Her liver and kidneys are failing. Her heart is weak. Her lungs keep filling with fluid. She’s on dialysis and taking heavy narcotics for the constant pain she feels, and her last checkup showed signs of dementia.

She is, in simple terms, a mess.

“Can we have a moment please?” I ask the nurse when she brings us to a stop in front of the green door.

“Of course,” she says with a fake-as-hell smile, not looking me in the eye. “When you’re ready, just head in. If you need anything, let us know. I do need to make you aware that sometimes Mrs. Davis gets . . . agitated. Don’t be alarmed if that happens. Just press the red button directly next to the bathroom door and we’ll be right there.”

“We’ve got it covered,” I tell her impatiently.

I wait for her to walk to the nurses’ station five doors down, giving us her back while she talks to some of the other nurses seated behind the desk. Then I turn to Quinn and wish I could erase this whole visit from her mind.

“I want you to listen to me, Grease.” I search her eyes and hold both her hands in my own. “Whatever happens in there, I want you to remember that the family that matters to you is waitin’ for you back in Pine Oak. Your brothers and Leigh, they care about you so much there isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for you. Their unconditional love, understandin’, and support will always be there for you. And baby, you’ve got me. There’s nothin’ in the world I wouldn’t do for you. You didn’t need that woman in there to mold you into the bright, compassionate, and lovin’ woman that you are today, and when you walk out that door later, you damn sure aren’t gonna need her then. Don’t forget that. You’re loved, baby, more than you could ever imagine.”

Her shoulders relax and she closes her eyes and drops her forehead to my chest, mumbling something I can’t quite hear.

“What’s that, Grease?”

She does it again and I smile.

“You’re gonna have to speak to me and not my chest, darlin’.”

When she looks up, the anxiety that hasn’t left her since we landed four hours ago is gone and she finally looks like my Quinn again. I lift my hand and push her loose hair behind her ear, resting my hand against her neck, and I smile down at her. Her eyes drop to my mouth and I get the first grin beaming from her since last night.

Her luminous green eyes jump back to mine. “I love you.”

My fucking God.

It’s the first time she’s initiated it, said it out loud, clear as day. She’s mouthed it. She’s hinted at it. But this is the first time I’ve gotten from her those words I’ve ached so long to hear.

“I love you more than ever. I owe you for makin’ me realize what really matters.”

“God, Quinn.” I exhale. “I love you too, darlin’. You ready?”

“Yeah, Tate . . . I think I am.”

I press a kiss against her lips and wait for her to open the door. She takes a fortifying breath, turns the knob, and walks inside.

I’m not sure what I expected to see when I saw her mama for the first time. Medically, I knew she wouldn’t look good, but seeing a woman that looks so much like Quinn on her deathbed knocks me for a loop so hard I struggle to breathe.

“Jesus Jones,” Quinn whispers, her eyes not leaving the woman who’s staring at the door.