I wait near the doorway inside the chief’s hospital room. It’s eating me up inside, watching Ember sit in that guest chair beside his bed, looking lost. The only fortunate news is that the chief’s injuries aren’t as serious as we thought. The bullet was a through and through. It didn’t hit any major organs before it exited his body. Still, it’s got to be tough, seeing him lie there, hooked up to all those wires and monitors, looking so weak. He’s in good spirits. He has to be. We all relax a little when he awakes and tells Ember that having her at his side is way better than the painkillers, just before the painkillers kick in again and put him to sleep.

No matter how forgiving he is, or how much he wants to brush this off to make me feel better, I know the truth.

I’m the cause of all of this.

I didn’t pull that trigger, but it’s my fault.

If I’d just done something about Dawn sooner.

Dawn.

That crazy, stupid woman.

Crazy, stupid, and delusional.

I don’t feel an ounce of regret over her condition. The bullet that entered her has put her in critical condition, but it’s her own doing. That’s why I refuse to see her. No fucking doctor’s urging can get me to her bedside. Hammer and my mother have already seen her. They both want me to speak to her, to let Sandy see her.

I refuse to do that. For one, Sandy’s too young to remember much about her mother. Why should I allow whatever remaining memory get overshadowed by seeing a woman she barely knows under police guard and on her deathbed? And for me, well, that ex-wife of mine put me through enough shit. And now she wants me to be there for her last send-off after getting my boss shot?

No fucking way.

Not a chance in hell.

Ember glances up at me as Hammer walks into the room. He has a tray with three coffees in one hand, and two bunches of flowers from the gift shop in the other. He sets down the tray and flowers on one nightstand beside the chief and hands a cup of coffee to Ember. Her pale gray eyes only stray from her father long enough to give Hammer a small, grateful smile. When I notice Hammer only placing one bunch of flowers in the clear plastic vase he finds in a drawer and fills with water, I shake my head at him.

He brings the other set of flowers and the third cup of coffee to me, jutting out his chin toward the hallway. “Let’s talk.”

I follow him out down the hallway to be out of earshot, but I’ve got nothing to say as I take the coffee he passes to me.

“You want to talk?” I ask him. “Go ahead. Talk.”

He holds out the bunch of flowers. “Go on. Take this to her before it’s too late.”

“I’m not doing that. Dawn can’t expect me to be there for her now. Not after all this.”

“I’m not the one asking.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your mother wants you in there now.”

I peel back the drink section of the coffee lid and start to lift it to my mouth, my eyes off in the distance, matching the distance I want to put between me and this conversation. “Mom can go soft on Dawn if she wants, but I’m not gonna—”

“Dawn’s dying, idiot,” he hurls out, cutting me off. “She was dying before that bullet hit her.”

My eyes snap over to Hammer. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Dawn’s dying.”

“Of what?”

“You name it, she’s got it. Renal failure, lung disease… all those years of drug abuse caught up with her. That’s why she came out to Reno. She wanted some time with Sandy. To say goodbye.”

Every possible raw emotion overcomes me then. “Why…I didn’t know…why didn’t she just tell me? She sent me a ton of texts and voicemail. Why didn’t she take a second to give me that piece of news? Why’d she have to let this…” I wave around us, to the hospital, the shooting incident, showing up at Sandy’s school, all the unnecessary drama. “She did all this, and she couldn’t bring herself to tell me she’s dying?”

“All right. I get it. We all get it, Deuce. What Dawn did was wrong.”

“You got that right,” I stress to him.

“Okay. Yes, it’s downright unforgivable. But she’s not exactly right in the head. And forgiving her isn’t about her. Closing this chapter is for you. Do it for yourself… your peace of mind. Do it for Sandy.”

“I had plenty of peace of mind before she showed up.”

“Just shut up and fucking give yourself a break, okay? She was your wife. Deny it all you want, but she meant something to you once. Look. It’s the end for Dawn. The doctors say she won’t last the night. You didn’t know about her illnesses before, but you do now. Go to her. Take these flowers. Say your goodbyes. Forgive her. Forgive yourself so you can move on.”

Fuck. Hammer may be right, but I’m not in the right mental or emotional state to let this stuff in. Turning around, I start walking to the nearest exit. What I need is a beer and to get the hell out of this place. But as I turn a bend in the hallway and make it to the elevators, my mother walks up to me from the other direction. The look she gives me is enough to turn me around and get me back on the path to Dawn’s hospital room. Mom always knew how to get my ass in gear without uttering a word.

I stop outside Dawn’s door, looking in through the small glass window, acutely aware that Mom’s at my side now. She squeezes my hand, nodding up at me, encouraging me to go into the room. But she stays outside when I go in.

The police guard that was here for Dawn earlier is gone now.

No escort is needed when a patient is about to die.

I step inside and stand halfway between the door and the bed, just looking at Dawn’s tiny frame. All the color is drained from her face. The rims around her eyes are red. Her bright red hair falls limply around her face. She’s so pale, so fragile under the fluorescent hospital lights.

I can’t honestly say I was ever in love with Dawn.

Our story wasn’t like Hammer and his late wife. We weren’t best friends, or head-over-heels in love like they were.

But I loved her. I cared about Dawn as a person.

I grew to love her as the mother of my child until she went off the rails.

“I probably shouldn’t be surprised to see you go out like this,” I mutter to her even though I know she’s unconscious. “You raised hell in life, Dawn. It’s no stretch that you’d go out with a bang…” I feel wetness form in my eyes as a memory surfaces. The mental image sharpens. It’s one where she sits in baby Sandy’s nursery, rocking our baby to sleep, staring down at our daughter’s darling face with all the love and adoration in the world.

“I know it was hard for you, Dawn. Really hard…but you loved Sandy so much when God gave her to us. I couldn’t understand what stopped you from loving her…I couldn’t reach you, and I didn’t know how to fix it…to make it better for you.”

Sucking in a heavy breath, I wipe away the one tear that rolls down my face and I move closer to her bedside. My hand finds hers. It’s cold. So small. Lifeless.

“I’m sorry… for not doing enough to get you the help you needed. That’s my one regret…failing you. I failed you when you needed me the most.”

I don’t want to break down. It’s too much to take. I turn to leave, feeling the vice that was tightened around my heart begin to ease as emotions flood in. As I make it to the door, I turn back to her. “You have my word that I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure Sandy knows how much her mother adored her. Goodbye, Dawn.”

That’s a promise I plan to keep.