Did Toby have a daughter?
“Wait, is Kasey yours?” She parked near the doorway for the ER.
Toby unbuckled his seat belt and opened his door. “In a way, yes.” He closed the door and helped her father out of the back of the car. They made toward the hospital’s automatic front doors, leaving Jenna to trail behind them.
“How old is she—Kasey?”
“Seven,” Toby called back as he shuffled along with Dad.
Jenna tried to wrap her mind around the fact that Toby had a daughter—a daughter the same age as Jenna’s child would have been if she’d carried to full-term.
But she couldn’t process it all. Not right now. It was too much, the emotions that went with what she’d been through during college on top of her worries about her father.
Shaken, she slumped into a chair beside Toby and curled her trembling hands over her stomach as Toby and her father answered the admitting nurse’s questions.
* * *
Toby ushered Jenna to a waiting area outside the doctor’s office. Jenna dragged her feet, her tennis shoes thumping against the polished floor. Mr. Crest had stated he preferred they let him be alone with the hospital staff first, with the promise that he’d call for them once he was ready. Jenna had balked until Toby pressed his hand to the small of her back and steered her out the door. Initially, he was afraid she would fight him, but she’d seemed almost grateful to be redirected.
Now, if only she’d talk.
Jenna rocked in her chair. Her already pale skin had turned ashen. She had her eyes closed tightly and was breathing hard through her nose. Toby dropped into the seat next to hers. Instinctively, he reached to take her hand but stopped himself before he made contact and grabbed the armrest instead.
“Are you okay?”
It was probably a dumb question. Her father was being examined in an emergency room. She’d been sitting in the same waiting room when she learned her mother had passed. This place—the hospital—was woven deeply into both Jenna’s and Toby’s lives. Not in a good way. Then again, when hospitals were needed, it was hardly ever good news. This was the same emergency room his family had rushed to many times with his brother. Although Toby had usually been sent to the Crests’ home, where Mrs. Crest distracted him with apple turnovers and the family included him in their evening board-game tournaments. Toby had spent many nights bunking in their guest room as a child so his parents didn’t have to split their time between him and his brother.
“Water.” Jenna ran shaky hands down her cheeks. “Can you get water?”
“I’ll get you anything you want.”
Jenna finally stopped rocking. She tipped her head to the side and studied him for a moment. What did she see? An old friend she trusted? Or still the enemy she’d made him out to be in the orchard an hour ago? Toby feared the latter.
“Water’s fine.” She looked away.
Toby begged a plastic cup off the ladies at the nurses’ station, filled it at the water fountain and then located a vending machine at the end of the hall. Score. It had chocolate-covered peanuts, Jenna’s favorite. After getting a pack, he reclaimed his seat and eased the cup into her hands.
She took a long drag of water and then cradled the cup on her lap. “That helped. Thank you.” At some point during their dash to the hospital, some of her curls had worked their way out of her ponytail so that they hung around her face. It made her look vulnerable. Protectiveness flooded his heart. Unsure of how she’d respond, he fought the desire to offer her a hug like the old days.
“Here.” He passed the chocolate-covered peanuts her way.
Jenna looked up from the cup of water and accepted the bag of treats. “Oh. These are my favorite.”
“I know,” he said warmly.
“You remembered.” Her voice sounded breathless.
“I...” He reached over and tucked her loose curls behind her ear. “I remember almost everything about you.”
Her eyebrows pinched together, and she rubbed the heel of her palm against her collarbone.
Toby angled his body toward her. Now was probably the worst time to ask, but he had to know, had to understand why she wasn’t happy to see him. Why she’d wanted him off their property. He tried to find a diplomatic way to start. “What are you thinking right now?”
“Sorry.” She dropped her hand from her chest. “Sometimes it feels like I’m having a heart attack.”
Concern for her dad. Anger at him for taking a job at the orchard. He’d expected one of those answers. Not...heart attack. Wait. Was Jenna ill, too? His gut tightened. “Should I get you a doctor?”
“Please don’t. I’m fine.”
“Is that a real fine, or like when your dad said he was fine?”
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“Jenn-nna.” He dragged out her name, the way he used to when he was bugging her to tell him something when they were kids.
“I...” She sighed loudly. “You might as well know if you’re going to be sticking around...”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I have anxiety. It’s not terrible. And not all the time.” She continued, speaking rapidly, almost as if her words might vanish if she didn’t get them out fast enough. “But I have attacks—episodes.” She shrugged. “Sometimes they’re really bad. I’m okay though. Right now. I’m fine.”
“You said that.” Toby let her words sink in. Jenna hadn’t suffered from panic attacks in the past, that he knew of, anyway. Were these new? What caused them? He’d have to do some more research about anxiety before probing further. One thing he understood from having lived with his brother was that where health conditions were concerned, people could unknowingly hurt with poorly phrased questions or assumptions, even when they had good intentions. He wouldn’t do that to Jenna.
Jenna set the bag of peanuts in her lap so she could knit her fingers together. “I know it’s irrational. I know... It’s just, at the time, it’s very real.” Her gaze latched on to his. “Do you think that’s silly?”
“Not at all.”
“Seriously?”
“Listen, Jenna, we all have things we struggle with.” He took a deep breath. “You clearly already know, but I spiraled into depression after the reality set in that I’d never play professional ball. I had no clue who Toby Holcomb was without that trajectory for my life. Unlike you, I wasn’t brave though.”
“I’m not brave.” She sounded hoarse. “Feeling like the world is collapsing when nothing is actually wrong isn’t brave.”
“You just told someone. That’s brave.” Toby rested his elbows on his knees and pressed his hands together. “I was a coward. I didn’t tell anyone when I was low.” Even himself. He should have known, locked up in his apartment for days at a time. Staying in bed. Not showering. Depression. The mind sure had a strange way of protecting itself...lying. Telling him he was fine. Normal. That how he was acting was how a failure of a man should act. He’d lost his dream of being a professional athlete and then tanked the sporting goods business he’d started after that.
Toby Holcomb is a failure.
Toby shook his thoughts away and pressed on. “Instead, like a fool, I self-medicated.” He scrubbed his hand over his jaw. Just say it. She already