𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 | 𝟏𝟖+

| 𝟐.𝟎

—

"The secret to joy is the mastery of misery."

—

I blink, staring at the text and reading it for the tenth time while standing in my office.

Mom
Calvin and I are filing for divorce. I'm moving back to Forks in a couple of days.

I wanted to find a stairwell and purposefully trip. To get a text from my mother wasn't abnormal. If anything, it was rare not to receive one. But this was by far the most surprising. "Jesus Christ, help us."

"Jamie, you've looked as if you saw a ghost."

I split my gaze to my coworker, Sasha. "My moms moving back to Forks."

Sasha furrows her dark brows, looking confused as she goes through paperwork. "And that's bad; why?"

I go to answer but stop words from leaving my mouth as I purse them. "It's complicated, and Stacy said she needs the pelvic ultrasound worksheets done," I said before grabbing my chart and heading to the patient's room. I open the door and try not to reminisce about my short time with Trixie.

"Max?" I ask the blue-eyed beauty.

"That would be me," she says uncomfortably, shifting on the seat.

I smile and ready up the machine. "You're six months along and are here for a monthly exam?"

"Yes," Max says meekly.

Someone wasn't a happy camper, but I wouldn't be either if I possibly had ovarian cysts the size of golf balls. "Do you take any perceptions for the pain?"

When she didn't answer, I looked at her to see her gazing at me accusingly. I furrow my brows, my grip on her chart tightening. "Is was something wrong?"

"Is it true that you're part of why that hiker went missing?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're the talk of the town right now after your Abuelita was attacked at the store a few days ago." she digs the knife deeper. Ircking me at how botched she pronounced Abuelita.

Pausing her with the lift of my hand, I excuse myself before calling Dr.Rose over. Passing her the charts, I mutter that I need a minute before pacing up the stairs and to the roofs, bumping people in the way. I open the door to the roof, greeted by cloudy skies and cold wind slapping my face. "What do I do, papa?" I let a tear cascade down my cheek in frustration, looking up at the sky.

Papa always pushed me to be the best I could be, a decent person who does good deeds for others. I grew up a people pleaser and wanted everyone to be happy, especially my parents. When papa died and my mother forced me to move to Arizona, I was lost and allowed to be a doormat for my mother's needs. When I grew out of people pleasing, she didn't like it and claimed I had lost my faith in god. I scoff at the thought. God and "having faith" is all my mother ever thinks about. I forced myself to find an outlet and came across an ultrasound technician program ad. Helping mothers prepare for motherhood and encouraging good parenting helped me cope with my parental issues. Hardening my heart from seeking treatment from the emotional and mental abuse my mother had given me was a tough choice I had to make, but recently I've been exploring the idea again. Especially since something in my brain wasn't clicking at the fact that I've slept with a murderer more than once.