Hollow (Perfect Little Pieces) by Ava Conway Page B

conceal his worry back in my room. "How did your visit with Martinez go?"
    He stopped eating and turned toward the window. "I don't know if he's going to make it, Lucy. There's just so much shit he has to deal with, you know?"
    "We all have shit to deal with," I said, thinking about my parents.
    "Yeah, not like Nesto, though." Jayden sighed and put down his ice cream. "I wish that there was more that I could do for him."
    That was so like Jayden. I thought back to how he talked to each patient individually as he introduced me. To feel so personally invested in everyone's welfare must be quite a burden.
    "Nesto's sickness isn't your fault, you know," I whispered.
    "I know. I'm just very protective of him. I can't help it." He turned his head and met my gaze. "I'm protective of everyone I care about."
    Heat slid up my spine as I realized that he included me in that group. It made me feel special, loved. After decades of living with my parents, Jayden was the first person who made me feel I was worth caring about.
    "What happened with your parents?" he asked.
    I didn’t ask how Jayden knew I had a visit with them scheduled for today. Like he said himself, he was resourceful. I cleared my throat and looked away. "I don't want to talk about it."
    "Their sickness isn't your fault, you know."
    I glanced up at him. "They're not sick. I am."
    "I see. So planting people in a mental hospital to spy on your sick daughter is normal?"
    Anger bubbled up inside my chest. "My mother is healthy. She's a lobbyist for one of the largest charities in the United States." What the hell was wrong with me? Hours ago I was telling her to go to hell and now I was defending her? Maybe it was because, despite everything that had happened between us, I was still her little girl. I still loved her.
    I just wished she didn't keep pissing that love away.
    "So you say." I could tell by Jayden's expression that he didn't believe my words any more than I did. To his credit, he didn't press.
    We finished our ice creams and talked about less weighty topics—the ward’s weekly movie night, the round-robin structure of the ping-pong tournament, and the frequency of the Tai Chi classes.
    "You should give them a try again," Jayden said as he wiped his fingers on a napkin. "They offer classes in the morning and at night. I think they might help you to relax more."
    "You think I need relaxing?" I joked. When he was silent, I cleared my throat. "Maybe."
    "It took me a long time to learn that not everything was in my control." He put his arm around me as we headed back to the ward. "Tai Chi helped me to accept the things I couldn't change, to go with the flow."
    Like he was accepting Nesto’s illness? Still, he probably had a point, and I needed something to fill me free time on the ward. "I'll think about it."
    "That's all I ask."
    We joked as we made our way to our floor, tickling and laughing like a couple of teenagers. By the time we made it back to reception and disposed of our scrubs, my stomach was full and my heart felt lighter.
    "Thanks," I said as we stopped in front of my door. "I needed that."
    He grinned. "Any time you need another break like that, you know who to call."
    "Yeah." I slid my lower lip between my teeth. "I do."
    An awkward silence settled between us. We both knew he had to go—they’d be calling lights-out soon—but neither of us was quite ready to part ways.
    "I'll see you at breakfast?" I finally asked, desperate to fill the silence.
    "Lucy." He took a step forward and hesitated. Tension filled the air as my whole body heated.
    "Yes?"
    He looked as though he was going to say something important, but then changed his mind. Instead, he reached out and cupped my cheek with his hand. "Take care of yourself."
    "You, too."
    He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. "I won't be at breakfast, but I'll see you at Rec Therapy."
    "Okay." I wanted to ask why he wouldn’t be at breakfast but held my tongue. Our connection was still fragile,