Finding Focus by Jiffy Kate

the front door and watches me drive off. My mind is still on our conversation when my phone lights up the dark car. I half expect it to be Piper, or perhaps Annie telling me I forgot something, so when Graham’s dad’s voice comes through the phone, I have to pull it back and do a double take, vaguely recognizing the New York number.
    “Mr. Harrison?”
    “Sheridan, I’m glad I finally got in touch with you.”
    “What’s wrong? Is something wrong with Graham?” I can’t think of any other reason he would be calling me. We’re not on friendly phone call terms.
    “Yes. He’s been in an accident. I should’ve called you yesterday, but I was waiting to see what the plan of action would be.”
    My heart sinks into my stomach and twists into a knot. “What happened?”
    “It’s a long story, and I don’t have time to go into details. Graham will have to tell you. But I need you to be at your house in the morning when his plane lands. He’s going to be incapacitated for a while, and since his apartment is on the twentieth floor, I figured your apartment would be more feasible for him—”
    “Mr. Harrison,” I say, cutting him off, “I’m not in New York. I . . . I won’t be home tomorrow. You’ll have to make other arrangements for him until I can get back.”
    “That’s not acceptable. I have meetings all week.” His voice rises, sounding exactly like his son when he doesn’t get his way, or perhaps it’s the other way around. “You must . . . I need you to be here. There isn’t anyone else who can assist him. I don’t have time to put everything on hold to cater to him.”
    Fury rises within me. Why does he think I have time to put everything on hold? I don’t even like Graham right now. Taking care of his every need is not something I feel like doing.
    “You owe this to him, Sheridan. He’s always been there for you when you needed him.”
    Guilt. That’s what I’m suddenly feeling, because he’s right. Graham dropped everything the day my granny died. He went with me to Mississippi and held my hand through the preparations and funeral. He forced me to go to class when I wanted to crawl into bed and shut the world out. He brought me pizza and ice cream. He has always been there for me up until recently, and I’m not sure when he stopped.
    “Okay,” I reply quietly, feeling reprimanded and ashamed of myself. “I’ll be there. I mean, I can’t be there tomorrow, but I will make arrangements to get back as soon as I can.”
    His loud sigh over the phone tells me he’s displeased with that answer, but he finally accepts it. “Fine. I’ll work something out.”
    “Mr. Harrison, is Graham going to be okay?” I realize I still don’t know what happened to him or the extent of his injuries.
    “Yes. He has several broken bones, one being his femur. He had surgery yesterday morning, and they placed a rod in his leg with screws at the hip and knee. The recovery time will be extensive. He’s still in a significant amount of pain, but he wants to come home, so I’ve arranged for a private flight. He’ll be back in New York tomorrow afternoon.” He sighs again, but this time, there’s concern laced in there. Somewhere, deep down, he really does care. “I’ll take care of him until you make it back. Does he have a key to your apartment?”
    “Yes,” I reply, a sick feeling bubbling in my stomach. The thought of his leg being broken and him going through surgery makes me feel that much more guilty for the thoughts I’ve had lately. I can only imagine how much pain he must be in. I feel nauseous just thinking about it. “You said several broken bones, what else?”
    “A fracture in his opposite foot and a break in his arm. He also has a few bruised ribs.”
    It all sounds horrible, and I want to know the details, but before I can ask another question, Mr. Harrison cuts me off.
    “Sheridan, I have to go. I’ll be in touch.”
    Looking down at my phone, I realize he already hung