“Do we have permission to offer a sedative, Cameron?” Eleanor asked. From the tone of her voice, it was clear it wasn’t the first time she’d posed the question.

I paused. God, I wanted my father’s pain to stop, but with every sedative, every mind-altering substance he took, he seemed to slip further and further from the grips of reality.

“Help me! God, help me!” Dad screamed, and I nodded, my head jerking up and down at speed.

I moved to my father’s side, grabbing one hand and taking over from one of the nurses. “Hey, Dad. Hey, I’m here for you. It’s me, Cam—”

“No!” Dad cried, his face contorted in horror. His nails dug into my skin, his eyes wild. “She’s pregnant! Keep her safe! Keep her safe!”

The nurses moved about as I squeezed his hand, ignoring the pain. “It’s gonna be okay, Dad. You’ve got this. I know you’re strong, and you’ll fight it. You’ll …”

It was like watching water slinking out of the bath. A slow but steady stream of peace washed over Dad’s body, relaxing it into the bed. His breathing slowed into a gentle, easy rhythm, and his lips let loose a feeble “help” that sounded more like giving up than trying to fight. More like letting go than holding on.

“He—how did he—”

My father’s sigh stole my words.

How did he get so bad? I turned to Eleanor, fire pumping through my veins. “What happened to make this—”

“We don’t know,” she answered, gesturing to the hall. “Let’s discuss it outside.”

I followed her, pulling the door to and folding my arms across my chest. “What the hell happened?”

A peaceful smile tugged at Eleanor’s lips. Did they teach that look in nursing school? “He was having one of his usual episodes, where his mind went back to the café. He reached the part where the bomb went off, but instead of a few minutes of horror, it got … stuck. Like his mind was on a loop.” She gestured to the door. “We tried the ocean music, the television, and then we called you. In the last two minutes, it took a turn for the worse. I’m glad you came. I managed to get an IV into him and prepared to administer a sedative once we had your permission. I was about to call again to ask your permission.”

I glanced back through the slit in the door. Dad lay peacefully on the bed, his once sharp hair fanned out in silver curls around his face.

How I’d failed him.

How I’d let my father down.

“The doctor is on his way now and will conduct a thorough examination once Donald wakes. In the meantime, if you’d like to hang around, you’re welcome to make use of the common room.” Eleanor gestured down the hall. “There’s tea and coffee there, and a bathroom with a baby change facility, should you need it.”

What was she—

I followed her gaze. Everly stood next to Piper in her pram, both pairs of eyes on me.

My lips tightened. “Thanks,” I muttered, and charged down the hall in the direction she’d pointed.

I couldn’t believe I’d brought Piper here, I’d brought anyone here. How could I let my father, my strong, stoic father down by showing his weakness to others?

I stormed through the door with the ‘common room’ sign out front and flicked the switch on the stainless-steel kettle. Rage vibrated through me like the ocean, anger so big it could barely be contained by my own skin. I clenched the orange laminate bench top. The sharp edge dug into the palms of my hands. My arms shook as I thought it over and over again: How could I have done this?

“Cam.”

Everly. I turned, staring at the woman in the doorway to the kitchen, her face so pale under the fluorescent lights. “What do you want?”

“Are you okay?” She took one, two tentative steps inside the room, Piper staring at me from the pram. “That was pretty—”

“That was none of your goddamn business,” I hissed.

Her mouth opened into this O of shock as her eyebrows rose and she slowly stepped away, headed back toward the door. “I’ll just leave you to it then. When you decide to be less of an arsehole, I’ll be the one in the garden. With your daughter.” She leaned heavily on the last word.

My daughter.

I’d just snapped, yelled at a woman, one who’d done nothing but be nice to me, in front of my daughter.

What sort of a monster was I?

I was never like this before. With Bella, I was lighter. Happier. I thought before I spoke, instead of letting those emotions rule my body, my brain.

I opened my mouth to apologise, to say something, but she’d already left the room. Instead, I scrubbed a hand over my jaw, my eyes on the kettle as bubbles began to roll inside of it.

Why did I do that? Why did I push her away when she was only trying to help? It wasn’t her fault she was here. I’d wanted this. I hadn’t realised it at first, but I’d needed it.

The kettle continued to bubble. Thoughts churned in my mind in response. My father. Why now? Why, after nearly two years, had he gone this far?

Nothing had changed.

Nothing.

Nothing except …

My visits.

I hadn’t been to see Dad in nine long days.

“Damn it,” I growled, my fist smashing in to the bench. Pain bit through my knuckles. My jaw clenched. Damn it. I should have come. I’d thought I was doing the right thing. It wasn’t goddamn fair.

And that was the crux of it all. How could I have done this? How could she have done this?

Only, I wasn’t talking about my father and Everly.

I was talking about myself.

I was talking about Bella.

Because if I hadn’t gone to get a beer, if she hadn’t gone and goddamn died, then none of this would be happening right now.

As the high-pitched whistle of the kettle rang in my ears, an echoing scream from my father played in my mind. Salt stung the corners of my eyes. My chest tightened. Air was hard to find, and my shoulders shuddered as pain tugged at them, dragging them down, pushing me under. Memories swam in my mind as I fought to stay afloat, fought to breathe. Bella, smiling. My father, tugging her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead. A wedding that never happened. A baby that was never born.

A baby that would never be born.

No. Please, no. It hurts too much.

But as my eyes cinched tighter closed, as they blocked out the orange laminate of the bench, my warped reflection in the silver kettle, I only saw one thing.

One face.

Piper.

For some goddamn reason—that little face of hers, watching, observing, silent—it was stuck in my mind.