“Why can’t I go home?” Joseph Brooke scowled at no one in particular. The nurse had just left after taking his drip off.

“No one said you couldn’t go home, Dad,” Bethany replied with patience that was receding and replaced by an impending migraine. She could just feel it right by the base of her skull. “Just not tonight. It’s past eleven already. Besides, you’ll be more comfortable here.

Her father slumped his head back on to the pillow. A shadow of pain crossed his face before the lines bracketing his mouth relaxed. He closed his eyes, hiding the blue eyes he had in common with his daughter.

Joseph ‘Joe’ Brooks wasn’t huge by any stretch of the imagination. Save for a small sized beer belly from having no other choice sometimes but to sit in the couch and watch the world pass him by, he puttered in the backyard and kept the house tidy. It was the exercise he did while at home. When he wanted to go for longer walks, he and Cora went to the nearby park. He ate healthily and didn’t drink at all but that still didn’t stop him from having a heart attack.

Bethany knew better. While her father kept busy, being made redundant and taking in temporary jobs where he could took its toll on his self-worth. She saw it in the flash of despair in his eyes and in the progressive slump of his once proud shoulders that hoisted her up when she was little so she could be on top of the world.

“I’m sorry, Bethany,” he sighed opening his eyes.

“Where is this coming from, Dad?” She stared at him in bemusement while she held his cold hand in both of hers.

She couldn’t even let out a chuckle since any movement now would just poke at the beast stirring at the back of her head. The sharper sound lent by her hearing aid wasn’t doing her any favours either. Each minute decibel was like driving a screw into her skull. While she could hear without the aid, it would be muffled. She’d have to ask her dad to repeat what he’d said and increasing his voice could cause the pain to intensify.

“Because I’ve not been able to pay for anything.”

“Stop,” she warned, her jaw locking to stop her mouth from trembling. Wrong move. “How many times do I have to tell you it’s okay?”

Her father gave another sigh, averting his stare to the spartan ceiling. “I still had a lot of years in me.”

When Joe became maudlin, only her mother could make him snap out of it but Bethany didn’t want to call her. Her mother needed to get some much needed after staying in the hospital for days on end. Bethany also promised her mother she’d stay until tomorrow.

She wasn’t so sure if she could now.

“You know,” she licked at her dry lips, taking a slow but deep breath. “There’s something you can do to help.”

Eagerness lit her father’s eyes. “Anything.”

“Get better and then,” she added quickly when she saw the light starting to dim from his eyes. “When you’re okay, you can help out in Expectation Blooms.”

Her father stared at her for so long, Bethany was afraid he’d continue his justified pity party. The dull throbbing in her head started.

“I’m listening.”

Her breath eased off in relief, the throbbing receding also.

“You know Cinzia and I are preparing to open our flower shop. It’s small but we have started to send feelers out.”

He nodded.

“It just so happens we need someone to run it on a part time basis. You have a good head for business, Dad. You made that last company a lot of money. They let you go, fine. But,” she added before her father to could speak. “Don’t you think it’s time to let go too?”

“Bethany ˗˗˗”

“Dad, listen.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m not offering charity though God knows I’d want to keep on caring for you and Mum.”

Her father expelled a huge breath. “Then what are you offering?”

Bethany smiled and it was worth every pain that crawled across to her eyes.

“I’m giving you back your dignity.”

Her father’s eyes were some of the most expressive Bethany had come across so when they watered and he closed them, Bethany knew she’d hit home. It may have taken a while, but she was finally giving her father his self-respect back.

She let go of his hand, knowing he was the kind of person who took a while for things to sink in. She moved slowly to the window of her father’s second floor room. It overlooked the hospital’s sprawling frontage. At eleven at night, the intersections several metres away were nearly devoid of vehicles. Traffic lights changed from red to amber to green at intervals. Headlights from a lone vehicle pierced the gloom, illuminating the raindrops falling from the ink black night. No vehicle inhabited the other lanes. It was just one solitary car waiting for the light to turn green. Obedient in following the rules. Staying in place, not daring to step out of line.

She was like that once. Her lips flattened to a cynical line, the irony not lost on her. Cars depreciated the moment they left the showroom. Women lost their dignity, trampled upon by those drunk on power they thought they had. She kept to the straight and narrow, believing the world wasn’t all that bad. That there were pockets of beauty, of kindness, of hope.

There never were. Others broke the rules, destroyed her trust she had freely given because circumstances made her different. Malice ruled the day because her hearing impairment made her less than perfect.

And something imperfect didn’t belong in a perfect place.

Until Drake showed her that imperfection could be a rare and coveted diamond in a superficial world.

“It’s just that…”

Bethany blinked the present and her migraine back, shoving the memories that pushed her off the cliff that shattered her innocence.

“Sorry, what was that?” she asked stepping away from the window. “You know I can’t understand you when I can’t see your mouth.”

“Sorry.” Her father’s airy laugh descended into a cough. He held his chest wincing in pain. Bethany rushed to get him water, sucking her breath when she felt the twinge pulsing at the base of her neck and pinching her shoulder. She held the straw to her father’s lips waiting until he had his fill.

“Better?”

He nodded. “Ta.”

“You were saying,” she said, sitting on the chair, careful not to make any jarring movement.

Her father’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “It’s just that it was my responsibility to take care of you and Mum. Not the other way around.”

“Dad, please,” she pleaded, her voice soft. “If you continued on, they’d still have taken you out in the end because of the merger. Look where the company is now. It’s gone into administration.”

Joe chuckled wryly heaving a breath. “Well there’s that.”

She grimaced. The pain encompassed the slope of her shoulder now and a vice squeezed her head. The vein on her right temple pulsed and the glare of the room’s fluorescent light wasn’t helping.

“Dad, I think I need to go home. I don’t think I can stay as I promised Mum I would.”

Her vision was starting to blur but she still saw her father’s face clear at seeing what she was going through.

“Migraine,” he whispered that sounded like a crack of thunder. The word triggered a shot of pain hitting her right temple once more. Bethany clamped her teeth on her bottom lip to stop her groan.

“Go on,” her father said, squeezing her hand. “You know I’ll be fine here. Did you bring your car?”

“No,” she said. No way was she going to shake her head. “Drake took me here.”

Joe grunted. “Hhmph.”

“Dad, please not now.” She stood with as much finesse she could muster. “Do you want me to call Mum?”

“No, don’t do that.” Joe pressed the call button. “I swear sometimes your Mum treats me like I’m bloody fragile. She’ll only worry if you do. When she comes back in the morning, I’ll tell her what happened.”

Bethany’s chuckle was followed by a moan.

The nurse entered. Joseph asked if she could call a taxi for Bethany.

“It’s fine,” Bethany interrupted. Her movements were slow, deliberate. “I can call one when I get to the lobby. Rest easy, Dad. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Take care, sweetheart. You rest too. Love you.”

She kissed her father on his forehead, waiting for her pulse to recede from her temple when she straightened. “Love you too, Dad.”

The ride to the ground floor eased part of the pressure on her head but the minute she stepped out another flash of pain blinded her. Her arms flailed to stop her fall, migraine forgotten.

“Whoa, Bee!”

Strong arms broke her fall.

“What’s wrong?” Drake asked, concerned.

“Migraine.” She blinked. She wanted to throw up. She swallowed the bile rising up her gut. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” His arm circled her waist. Bethany gratefully leaned against him. Pleasurable heat penetrated her pain. “Have you eaten?”

The thought of food made it more difficult to keep her bile down.

“I did earlier.” She swallowed through her constricting throat. “Look Drake, I don’t want to be rude. I need to go home.”

“I’ll take you.”

“Thank you.” She exhaled in relief.

“Promise you won’t jump?”

She looked up to retort but saw Drake’s teasing gaze. She huffed a soft laugh that came out as a sound of pain.

“Only you, Drake Rosen, have the guts to make a mockery of someone’s pain and make it funny.”

“Bloody hell, Bee. I don’t know whether I should take that as a compliment or not.”

“Think of it any way you like. Just get me out of here.”

Drake’s soft laugh permeated the chill encroaching on her and the kiss on her temple eased the angry throb. Whoever said that a kiss could take away physical pain had been on to something.

The farther they went into the empty lobby, the more she leaned on him. Another shot of pain lanced her eyes this time and she grunted as the blood drained away from her face to settle in her ankles.

“Bethany…” Drake’s voice was harsh in her ear.

Her knees buckled.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” she looked up at him, the remembered fear leeching out of her eyes and pores. Her body betrayed her when she shook. “Please don’t hurt me.”