“And Wilde’s just worried about you.” He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You two have gotten close.”
It wasn’t a question, but she heard the unspoken inquiry nonetheless. Her father had always been economical with words, expecting others to fill in the blanks.
“We’ve been through a lot together,” she said carefully, not ready to define whatever was happening between her and Elliot, especially not to her father.
Gabe nodded, his expression unreadable. His teammates hadn’t called him Stonewall for nothing.
“How are you feeling, kiddo?” he asked after a long moment. “You scared your mom.”
Translation:You scared me.
She’d scared herself, too, though she’d never admit it out loud.
“I’m okay, Dad.” The lie came easily, practiced from years of reassuring worried parents after climbing accidents and expedition mishaps. “Just tired.”
“Want to talk about it?”
The simple question hit harder than any amount of fussing or hovering. Her father had always been like this—direct, patient, willing to sit in uncomfortable silences until she was ready to speak. It was the opposite of Elliot’s anxious caretaking, and somehow more unsettling.
Rue picked at the edge of her hospital blanket, the rough weave catching on her still-healing fingertips. The doctors had treated her for minor frostbite, but the damage was mostly superficial. Unlike the damage to her peace of mind.
“They killed her, Daddy.” Tears welled up and spilled over. “They murdered Maren.” Her voice cracked, the words shattering in her throat. “She was trying to help those people, and they just—they left her there to die. Like garbage.”
Her father’s big hand engulfed hers, warm and solid, anchoring her as the emotions she’d been holding back crashed through her defenses. Unlike Elliot, who would’ve immediately tried to comfort her with words, her father simply held on, giving her the space to feel everything she’d been pushing down.
The tears kept coming, and Rue couldn’t stop them. She hadn’t cried this hard since finding Maren’s body, frozen and abandoned in that makeshift morgue. Part of her hated breaking down like this in front of her father—the man who’d taughther to be strong, to face danger without flinching. But another part needed this release, needed to finally acknowledge the full weight of what had happened.
“I keep seeing her face,” she whispered. “Every time I close my eyes.”
The door to her room swung open, and her mother swept in like a colorful whirlwind, arms laden with shopping bags. Audrey Bristow’s silver-gray hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, secured with what looked like a paintbrush. She wore a flowing caftan in shades of turquoise and purple, multiple beaded necklaces clacking together as she moved.
“I found the most wonderful little shop just down the street,” she announced, setting the bags down at the foot of Rue’s bed. “They had these organic teas that are supposed to help with healing, and I got you some new pajamas because those hospital gowns are just awful, and—” She stopped abruptly, finally noticing Rue’s tear-streaked face. “Oh, my baby.”
She rushed to the other side of the bed and perched on the edge, her hands fluttering over Rue like hummingbirds before finally settling on her cheeks, thumbs gently wiping away tears.
“Mom,” Rue managed, embarrassed by the wobble in her voice. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Audrey said firmly. “And that’s okay.” She wiped away more tears and smiled. “I saw Elliot on my way in. Dominic was practically dragging him out the door. He wanted to come back to you. You do realize how much he loves you, right?”
Rue swallowed hard, and tears rushed into her eyes for an entirely different reason. “He wants something permanent, Mom, and I’m... I’m scared I’ll have to give up everything I am.” The admission came out in a rush, surprising even her. She hadn’t meant to say it—hadn’t even realized it was weighing on her until the words escaped.
Audrey’s eyes softened with understanding. “Is that what you think happens when you love someone? That you have to surrender who you are?”
“Isn’t it?” Rue looked from her mother to her father. “You both changed so much when you got together. Dad retired from active duty?—”
Gabe grunted. “Not for your mom.”
She blinked. “No?”
“No, Audrey would’ve let me keep throwing myself into danger as long as I wanted to.”
“It’s true,” Mom said. “I didn’t always like it, but being a warrior is part of who he is, as ingrained as his eye color. I couldn’t ask him to change such a fundamental part of himself.”
“Baby girl, I stopped going into the field for you and your sister. I’d already beaten death three times in as many years and didn’t want to press my luck again. I wasn’t going to leave my girls fatherless.”
Rue opened her mouth, then closed it again without uttering a sound, completely at a loss for words.
“But…” she finally managed. “Mom, you stopped painting those wild abstracts. You used to live on a beach in Costa Rica. You gave all that up.”
