The two-week "adventure" had slowly bled into a restless routine. In Sonoma, the waves were peaceful, but my phone told a different story. As the days passed, the buzzing became a constant hum. Emergency cases—traumas that only my hands could fix—were stacking up at St. Jude's.
I was a mother in hiding, yes, but I was still a doctor.
By the second week, I started making the drive back into the city before the sun touched the horizon. I would leave Justin at the house to guard Leo and Nanny B, or sometimes he would shadow me, a silent ghost in the driver's seat. At the hospital, things felt almost normal. Marcus was sitting up, his strength returning with a stubbornness that reminded me painfully of his brother. Miller was already limping down the hallways, refusing to stay in bed.
