My gaze snapped to the door, Mother’s doctor standing there with a forced smile and sad eyes.

Shit.

“I thought Fridays were your day off,” I said and started to grab my things. A cheap tote, my Gentle Monsters that I hid from the creditor, and my phone. I didn’t have much on me anymore. A bit embarrassing. But nothing was more embarrassing than the conversation we were about to have.

“I’m covering,” he said and jerked his head back, signaling me to step outside.

Not like Mother can hear anyway. My thoughts were bitter, but inside I appreciated the gesture.

I stood and leaned over to place a gentle kiss on my mother’s forehead.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered. “Trust me. I’ll save us.”

I followed the doctor out into the hallway. It was late at night with only a few nurses at the station. Visitor hours were long since over, but they made an exception for the blonde Mercer girl. Even if it was out of pity, I would take what I could get.

I crossed my arms as the doctor turned to me, a silly habit and a way to physically try to keep myself together when it felt like the world was going to tear me apart.

The doctor had kind hazel eyes behind rounded frames, messy sandy blond hair, and a light scruff, no doubt from all the extra hours he’d been working.

I paused, the voices from the nurses making their way down the hallway.

“No, she’s the one!”

“No way. She doesn’t even look that rich. Did you see those roots?”

“That’s the point! They lost it all! Her dad was some crazy, fucked-up CEO who, like, stole everyone’s⁠—”

The doctor cleared his throat loudly, silencing the nurses. “Get back to work.”

There was a chorus of Yes, doctor, but nothing else.

“Sorry about that,” he whispered.

“I’m used to it,” I said with a grimace. It had been years, but some things didn’t change.

He cleared his throat, getting back to business.

“Ms. Mercer, last time we talked about the insurance costs⁠—”

“I have a plan,” I said quickly, cutting him off. “I’ll make sure it gets paid. I promise.”

He kept his gaze on me before sighing and looking back at my mother’s door.

“Look, payments and stuff aren’t usually something I handle, but I feel bad for you. I know you’re struggling, so I wanted to warn you before⁠—”

“And I’m grateful,” I said, laying my hand on his arm. His eyes fell to it, and I jerked it away. “Sorry.”

“You’re not…” He looked like he was struggling for words. “Going to do anything illegal, are you?” His voice had dropped to a whisper.

I swallowed thickly, feeling my face heat.

No, but I am going to sell the last valuable thing I have.