Chapter 64 Yvonne’s Guilt
Philip stayed silent.
The room grew awkward.
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At last, Walter broke first. He waved his hand and sighed. “Alright, alright. I know what’s on your mind. Just focus on healing. Leave him to me–I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Walter?” Philip frowned, confused.
Walter explained, “This was your grandpa’s request. He asked me to take him on as a mentee and guide him a bit. He’s not really up to my standard, but I can’t turn down a favor for your grandpa.”
So from that day on, Walter had a new mentee under his wing.
“When you’re better, I’ll let him go. That’s why you need to recover quickly–so you can take him off my hands. Honestly, if I have to stay with this kid too long, I might end up with a heart attack,” Walter grumbled, but every word circled back to Philip’s injury.
The truth was clear–he only wanted Philip to rest and heal properly.
Philip understood.
He didn’t argue, just nodded in agreement.
Walter also reminded him, “Since this wound of yours is a special case, I’ve already arranged leave with the unit. We told them it was appendicitis. So don’t slip up when they check in.”
“I got it. Thanks, Walter,” Philip said again with a nod.
They talked for quite a while before Walter finally left. On his way out, he told Evelyn, “Take good care of Philip. To me, even though he’s just one of my mentees, he’s like a son. Don’t let him sneak out to train before he’s fully healed.”
“With a mentor like you, Mr. Walter, he’s lucky,” Evelyn said with a smile.
Walter snorted, waving her off. “Lucky? That brat was dragged to me by his grandfather when he was a boy. He cried his eyes out back then.”
“And now he calls you his mentor so warmly,” Evelyn teased, tilting her head with a grin that showed her small white teeth. “What matters isn’t the past, but the present.”
“You’ve got a point.” Walter rubbed his nose, a faint smile flickering as he remembered the scene from years ago.
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“Alright then. You take care of him. I’ll head back with the others. Come by sometime–I’ll make you some stew.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Walter.” Evelyn waved.
After Walter and the others left, Evelyn told Quade and Marvin to go back to their own business before she returned to Philip’s room.
Philip was half–sitting against the headboard, spooning up the bowl of grits from earlier.
Evelyn walked over and placed her hand on his forehead. The fever had nearly dropped back to normal, and she finally let out a breath of relief.
The fever breaking meant his body was beginning to recover. The most dangerous stage had passed.
Now, he only needed plenty of rest.
Just as her worries eased, Philip set the bowl aside. “Evelyn, I’m fine now. You’ve been out running around long enough. Let Quade take you home so you can rest too.”
It was true—removing the bullet and running back and forth across campus had all drained her strength.
But Evelyn wasn’t about to leave.
“When it gets dark, maybe. Even though the fever’s down, it could flare up again. As a doctor, I can’t just walk out and be careless with a patient.”
That was her professional answer, but she knew it wasn’t the whole truth.
Philip was at his weakest right now, and she couldn’t bear to abandon him.
Quade might be here, but he was too nervous and scattered in a crisis, while Philip had a habit of keeping his pain to himself.
Evelyn worried something might go wrong if she left.
When Philip tried to speak again, she quickly scooped up a spoonful of grits and pushed it into his mouth, glaring at him playfully. “What you need right now is quiet and rest. Finish these grits, then lie down and sleep. If you don’t, I swear I’ll grab a big wooden stick and knock you out myself!”
The grits were bland, yet somehow, when she fed them to him, they carried a touch of
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sweetness.
Swallowing, Philip lowered his voice. “You wouldn’t do that, because you care too much.”
“Wrong.” Evelyn shot back with a mock–stern face. “I would. So you’d better behave, or you’ll be the one paying for it.” She raised the spoon again, holding it out to his lips.
She stayed by his side until nightfall, only then agreeing to leave.
Quade had been ordered to escort her, but she waved him off.
Philip still needed someone nearby, and she didn’t want to pull Quade away.
Besides, it was just a ten–minute cab ride from campus back to her home. Nothing dangerous enough to require an escort.
After Evelyn refused several times, Quade finally gave in, saw her safely into a taxi, and then turned and hurried back to the dorm to watch over his boss.
It was only eight o’clock when Evelyn got home.
Yvonne sat slumped on the couch, staring into space. Her face looked drained, her expression twisted with both pain and exhaustion.
When Evelyn made plenty of noise shutting the door, Yvonne didn’t flinch. She looked like she had turned to stone.
Evelyn lowered her eyes, scanning the living room, and a small smile tugged at her lips.
In the farthest corner of the couch lay a Siemens cell phone, silent and forgotten.
Just a few months back, Zaid had spent a fortune on it as Yvonne’s birthday gift. She had treated it like treasure.
Now, it sat tossed aside like trash.
The house phone was even worse–its cord was yanked out of the wall.
Yvonne was afraid of getting calls.
Perfect. That meant the story she had asked Charles to publish was already starting to work.
Pressing her lips together, Evelyn didn’t bother disturbing Yvonne’s daze. Instead, she walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and pulled out a can of pineapple.
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Dinner wasn’t something she expected Yvonne to manage tonight.
The fact that Yvonne could snap out of her trance was good enough.
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Besides, cooking dinner wasn’t Evelyn’s problem. She knew someone else in the house would bring it up soon enough.
She had only eaten two slices of pineapple when Zaid came back.
Recently, with no new trouble at home and after showing off some of Bill’s money at the jewelry store, his mood had been riding high. He came through the door humming, cheerful
as ever.
He looked around, spotted his wife and daughter sitting on opposite ends of the couch, and chuckled. “What’s this? Sitting apart like that—are you two fighting again?”
Now it was Evelyn’s turn to put on a performance.
She pushed the can of pineapple toward the middle of the table and looked up with a face full of concern. “Dad, you’re home. Want me to make you some pasta? Grandpa taught me how last time I was at his place.”
Of course, she’d just learned the recipe. How good would her cooking be?
And Bill’s stomach had been spoiled by Yvonne’s cooking for years–ordinary food rarely satisfied him.
Naturally, he shook his head.
“What’s wrong? Your mom didn’t cook? It’s past eight already. Usually when I get home, dinner’s on the table. What’s going on today?” Zaid asked, puzzled.
Evelyn shrugged, putting on her best innocent look. “I don’t know. When I came back, Mom was already sitting in the living room. It seemed like she was waiting for a phone call.”
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