His fingers tightened around the envelope. “Because there is no way back now, Kirsten. There is no way out of this.” Packaging
That morning, I had been sitting beside Lisa’s hospital bed, smoothing her dark hair over one shoulder. Even in a coma, she was still my girl, the one who hated having tangles in her hair. Still nineteen. Still mine.
Dr. Evans stood in the doorway with a folder pressed against his chest.
“Kirsten,” he said, “we need to talk about the neuro-rehab program.”
“I paid what I could yesterday, Dr. Evans. I can bring more on Monday.”
“The deposit is due next Friday. Without it, they will release her spot.”
I gripped Lisa’s hand. “Then hold it until Friday. Please.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean billing won’t bother trying.”
His expression softened. “If the deposit isn’t paid, we can continue basic support until a long-term care transfer is arranged.”
