Chapter 3 I Promise

I froze.

That was when it hit me. With all the overtime I'd taken recently, I'd completely forgotten something terribly important.

A few weeks ago, my father went for a checkup back in my hometown. The doctors found something wrong with his liver.

My parents decided to come to Sutton Bay so he could get a full evaluation at a better hospital, but work had been so insane that I hadn't even arranged a place for them to stay.

"They can just get a hotel," Miranda said without hesitation. "It'll be easier."

I thought it over for a moment. Then, I texted our landlord to ask if he had any other apartments nearby. If my father needed treatment, my parents might be here for weeks, maybe even months. Staying in a hotel that long just wasn't practical.

Our landlord didn't get back to me until right before bed.

"I do have another unit available, but it's much more expensive than the one you're in now."

A second message came through a moment later.

"Oh, and next time, have your girlfriend send the rent payment directly to my bank account. It'll be easier."

I frowned at the screen and typed back, "What rent payment? I'm the one who sends you the rent every month."

His reply came almost immediately.

"There are three of you living there, right? Your girlfriend said she pays the other guy's share separately. You didn't know?"

My entire body went cold.

A few seconds later, he sent me the payment records. Miranda had been paying Ashton's share of the rent every month, without fail.

My hands started to shake as I slowly turned toward the woman sleeping peacefully beside me.

"Miranda."

No response.

"Miranda, wake up."

She stirred and cracked her eyes open, clearly annoyed. "What?"

"Explain yourself." I held up my phone. "Why are you paying Ashton's rent?"

She squinted at the screen, still half asleep. "What are you talking about?"

"Why are you paying his rent?" My voice rose before I could stop myself. "When did you two get close enough for you to start paying his bills? I'm your boyfriend, Miranda! Not him!"

All the anger I'd swallowed for months finally exploded.

That woke her up.

Her expression hardened as she pushed herself up and stared at me. "You woke me up over this? Seriously? Randy, have you completely lost it from working too much?"

I let out a disbelieving chuckle. "This? You think this is nothing?"

"What else could it be?" She rolled her eyes. "You come from money, and he doesn't. Ashton has siblings back home whom he helps support. Money's tight for him, so I cover his share of the rent. What's the big deal?"

Before I could respond, she added, "Besides, he's your best friend. Maybe instead of interrogating me, you should ask yourself why he felt more comfortable asking me for help than asking you."

Every word hit me like a punch.

Then, she rolled over and fell back asleep as if the conversation wasn't even a blip on her radar.

I sat there staring at her back as the anger slowly drained out of me, replaced by something far more unsettling.

I wondered just how much of their relationship had been happening behind my back.

A chill ran through me.

I didn't want to know the answers, and I honestly didn't have the energy to find out. My alarm was set for 5 a.m., and I had work in the morning.

I couldn't afford to fall apart right now. My father might need treatment, and I needed the money more than ever.

...

The next evening, I left work early and brought my parents back to the apartment.

My mother made dinner herself.

In the middle of the table was a platter of smoked pork and vegetables she'd brought from home and cooked for us.

"Miranda, have some," my mother said warmly. "I made it myself. It's one of Randy's favorites."

Miranda reached for some, but Ashton stopped her. "Don't eat that. It's way too fatty."

Her fork froze halfway to the plate.

Ashton took her hand and looked at her as if she were about to undo months of hard work. "One bite of that and all the progress you've made on your abs goes out the window. We're supposed to take pictures at the gym soon, remember?"

Miranda pouted and put down her fork. "Fine. I won't eat it."

Ashton smiled, satisfied.

Then, he seemed to notice my parents staring at them and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Lester. Miranda and I have been cutting and working out together lately. It's nothing against your cooking."

My parents managed awkward smiles before glancing over at me, concern written all over their faces.

I kept my eyes on my plate, gripping my fork so tightly my fingers hurt. I thought, 'Soon. I just have to get Dad through this for now. Once he's okay, I can leave.'

...

The next day, I took time off and brought my parents to the hospital.

The diagnosis wasn't a good one.

My father needed surgery as soon as possible.

Unfortunately, I had an important meeting on the day of his surgery that I couldn't get out of. So, I asked Miranda to take my parents to the hospital.

"I'll have everything ready beforehand," I told her. "All you need to do is drive them there. I'll head straight to the hospital as soon as my meeting ends."

Miranda must have noticed how anxious I was, because she sighed and wrapped her arms around me for the first time in what felt like forever.

"Hey." Her voice softened. "I'm here, Randy. Don't worry. I promise I'll get your dad there safely."

For some reason, hearing that actually made me feel better.

On the day of the surgery, I tried my best to wrap up my meeting as quickly as possible.

As I grabbed my things and rushed to the hospital, my phone rang.

It was an unknown number.

I answered, "Hello?"

"Is this Mr. Randy Lester?"

"Yes."

A brief pause followed on the other end.

"Your father was struck by a car. He is in critical condition. We need you to come to the hospital immediately."