“Fuck the timing of this. Seriously,” I mumble.
Stasi eases off my chest. I miss her warmth immediately. “Is there anything we can get you? Are you hungry or thirsty?”
I peck a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I have two favors to ask.”
“Anything,” she replies.
“I’d like an ice cold Diet Coke.”
Liam stands up fast enough to make the chair screech on the floor, an inked hand already digging for his wallet.
“And two. I’d like for both of you to go home and get some sleep.”
Stasi shakes her head. “I’m fine right here.”
“Sweetheart.” I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’d like to sleep, too.”
Her little “oh” puts more cracks in my heart. I ache to comfort her, but Dr. Malone could return at any second, and I don’t want them here for that conversation.
Stasi hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. “Okay, but you’ll call or text if anything happens?”
I sense Liam’s intense gaze on me.
“Promise.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Still, it’s the right thing to do.
Minutes later, they return to my room—Liam with the Diet Coke and Stasi with a styrofoam cup of ice chips. She kisses me quickly, then makes room for Liam at my bedside. He leans in to kiss my forehead. I can tell by the tension in his body and the distant look in his eyes that he’s in the process of shutting down.
My heart breaks for Stasi. Have I doomed them?
I watch them leave with a sinking feeling in my gut. Death might as well have its skeletal arms around me because suddenly I can’t breathe.
Something on a machine must trigger a nurse to come in. As soon as she sees the tears on my face, she gives me an understanding look. “Emotional pain can be just as bad as the physical stuff, huh? Anything I can do for you, sugar?”
Practicing a deep breath, I glance over at the duffle bag Liam dropped on a chair. “You mind checking if my phone is in that bag, please?”
She fishes through it and hands my phone over. Then she removes a fluffy blanket Liam packed as well, arranging it over my feet. “You’ve got some good friends.”
“The best,” I choke out.
I wait until she leaves to make a phone call, guilt rising in my chest at the thought of dumping bad news on my dad when he’s already experienced so much hardship in his life. Burying his wife should have been the end of it.
The phone rings several times, and I begin to lose hope that he’ll pick up. I remind myself that it’s still light outside. He’s probably working.
“Beau? Is that you?” A gruff voice answers.
My pulse trips up. “Hey, dad.”
“What’s goin’ on, son? You still out on the road?”
“Nah.” I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. “I’m gonna be home soon. For good.”
The pause on the other side has my throat tightening.
“Music thing not working out then?”
“You could say that.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve always had a talent for it.”
