“Quit pacing, I’m fine.”

Oxygen hisses from the nasal cannula when Dad pulls it from his nose. “I hate this shit. I don’t need any goddamn oxygen.”

“You’re not fine. You had a heart attack. The doctor says you need the oxygen, so put the damn tubing back into your nose.”

“It itches.”

“So scratch and put it back.”

Adley snickers from her chair on the other side of my father’s bed.

“What are you laughing at?” Dad asks, trying not to smile as he scowls at her.

He fails miserably, probably because she’s so darn cute, and she was his angel today. If it weren’t for her quick action, I’m not sure my dad would still be here.

“Come here,” I say, motioning her over with a crook of my finger.

She walks around the small room, stops alongside of me, and brushes a strand of hair from my face. “I’m here.”

“Thank you.” Taking her hand, I pull her onto my lap. Her cheeks turn red, and she tries to look at my father, but I don’t let her. With a hand to her chin, I keep her eyes on me.

“For what?” she asks.

“For saving my pathetic fucking life,” Dad grumbles.

Adley rolls her head to the side and pins Dad with a firm glare. “You need to stay calm. When you get riled up, it raises your blood pressure.”

“I am calm,” he states.

“You’re pissy,” she answers.

“That’s because I’m hungry, and I’m sick of these damn tubes.” He messes with the one in his nose again before tugging on the IV in his arm.

“How can you be hungry? You ate all the cookies at the party,” Adley says, laughing.

“That was five hours ago,” he replies.

“I think I can solve the hungry part,” Chloe says, walking in with a tray in her hands. “It isn’t much, but it’ll hold you over until after the procedure.”

Dad frowns. “What procedure?”

Chloe puts the tray on the bedside table and situates it in front of him. “The cardiac cath, remember? The doctor came in and explained it earlier.”

“Oh yeah,” he mumbles, lifting the cover from his plate. “Jell-O. That’s it? I don’t even like Jell-O. What kind of goddamn hellhole is this place?”

“Calm down,” Adley says, turning on my lap so she can face my dad. “It’s precautionary. They can’t have your stomach full of food when they take you down for the cardiac cath.”

“I got you some broth too,” Chloe says, lifting the cover from a small bowl.

“I don’t want broth,” he huffs, pushing the bedside table away. “What a crock of shit. Just take me home,” he says, looking at me. “I don’t need to have a procedure.”

“Yes, you do. You got lucky today,” Adley says firmly. “You might not get so lucky next time, and you’ve got a lot of living left to do.”

Dad pinches his lips together and reaches for the Jell-O. “You’re lucky I like you.”

Adley stands up and puts a gentle hand to his shoulder. “No, you’re lucky I like you.”

“That too,” he says, waving her off. “Now get outta here so I can talk to my son.”

“Come on,” Chloe says, waving for Adley to follow. “I know where we can grab a shitty cup of coffee.”

“I, uh… I can’t drink coffee,” Adley says, following her from the room.

“What do you mean you can’t drink coffee?”

“I mean I don’t drink it.”

I miss the rest of the conversation as they disappear from the room. When I turn to Dad, he’s studying the sheet wrapped around his legs.

“You okay?”

“No.” He shakes his head, but doesn’t look up. “I almost died today.”

“You’re too stubborn to die,” I joke.

He looks over and a smile cracks his face, but it quickly fades. “I don’t like the idea of kicking the bucket without telling you I’m sorry.”

Shit. This is it. That conversation I’m not sure I’m ready for.

“I know, Dad.”

He looks up. “No, you don’t. I’ve said it before, but I’ve never meant it. I mean it now, Linc. I was a shit father to you and Chloe. I don’t deserve the kindness you’ve shown me over the years, and I sure as hell don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I want it.”

“I want to forgive you, Dad, okay? I’m trying to forgive you, but it’s hard. And this—you here in the hospital—makes it even harder, because I know our remaining time together is limited. But you filled my life with so much hate.”

“I know,” he laments. “I love you, Linc, and I’d give anything to take it back.”

I’ve teetered on several different emotions today—fear, hopelessness, hopefulness, and now anger. I’m angry at him for waiting so long to give me the words I’ve needed to hear. And now that he’s said them, I can’t even process that because I’m angry at him for asking for forgiveness when he sure as hell doesn’t deserve it. And I’m angry at myself because I don’t know if I can forgive him.

“But you can’t, Dad. You can’t take it back. It’s because of you that I was stealing food from the gas station to feed Chloe. I was a teenager, Dad. I should’ve been thinking about girls and getting my driver’s license, not caring for my baby sister.”

“I get it, okay?” He pushes up in the bed and runs a hand through his greasy hair. “I fucked up over and over again, and I know I can’t take that back. I can’t change the past, but I can sure as hell work on the future.”

“Where is this coming from? Why now? Why are you suddenly trying to make amends?”

“Because like you said, my time is limited. This just proves it,” he says, motioning to the hospital room. “And also because someone told me recently that I can’t receive forgiveness if I don’t ask for it.”

I roll my eyes. “Have you been watching that religious show again?”

“No,” he scoffs. “It was Adley. Adley told me.”

“Adley?”

“Yeah. We were talking at Chloe’s party. We had a good talk. I hope you don’t let that one go. She’s a keeper.”

“I know she is.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.”

Dad just shakes his head, as if he doesn’t believe me. “I hope so, because she’s already in love with you.”

“Don’t.” I shake my head and walk to the opposite side of the room. “Don’t try to give me relationship advice. You know nothing about Adley and me.”

With that, something inside of me snaps. The anger and resentment I’ve held close for so many years finally bubbles to the surface. Rather than simmering there, it explodes, and I realize fast that I have zero control over it.

“And don’t talk about something you don’t know the meaning of,” I add.

His eyes narrow. “I know the meaning. I loved your mother dearly.”

“Is that why she came home drunk every night? Is that why she was cheating on you every chance she got? Because you showered her with love?”

“Your mother and I had a different kind of love. What we felt for each other was wild and dangerous. The love you and Adley share is so much more. It’s pure and selfless and—”

“Don’t tell me what I have with Adley,” I spit. “You don’t even know her. Hell, you barely know me. You pull out these old pictures, toss around a few heartfelt words, and think suddenly everything is okay? Well, it’s not. A few apologies don’t give you the right to interject your opinions about my life. It’s because of you that I don’t believe in love. I’ll never be able to love Adley the way she deserves because you and Mom fucked me up.”

“Pull your head outta your ass. You love her.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” I growl. “I don’t love her.”

I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth, because I do love Adley. But I’m pissed and my words are being fueled by twenty-plus years of pent-up pain and rage. I’m stuck between a sick cycle of my past and my future, and I have one goal right now: to hurt my father the way he’s hurt me. Only I won’t use my fists.

“You ruined the idea of happily-ever-after for me. It’s because of you that I’ll never have that.”

Through the roar of blood rushing through my ears, I hear a faint gasp, but I’m too busy unloading on Dad to turn around.

Dad shakes his head. “I don’t believe that for a second. You love your sister.”

“Chloe is different. She’s blood. She’s my family. Of course I love her. But I refuse to fall in love. I refuse to give someone the power to hurt me the way you and Mom hurt each other. That’s all you two did, hurt each other and us. Do you think I want that? Fuck, no. And God forbid I ever have kids. The last thing this world needs is another Bennett spawn running around.”

I can still hear my mother’s warning from years ago. “You’re a dumbass, Linc, stupider than your father, if that’s even possible. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and I hope to God your kids don’t get your brains.”

I was an angry little shit who couldn’t keep his mouth shut. “What’s that say about you?”

Touching my cheek, I run my fingers along my jaw, searching for the scar I know is buried beneath the scruff. When I find it, I close my eyes, remembering how pissed off she was about my smart mouth. With the can opener clenched in her fist, she swung and knocked me out cold.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” I tell Dad, quoting my mother.

His eyes swim with tears. In all my years, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him cry.

“I broke you,” he says. “Your mother and I broke you.”

“You’re damn right you did. You ripped my heart and soul into so many pieces that it’ll never be whole for me to give to someone else, let alone a family.”

I take a deep breath. Judging by the look on Dad’s face, my words have hit their mark.

But why don’t I feel better?

“Shit,” I sigh, running my hand through my hair. I turn to the side, and that’s when I see Adley.

Tears stream down her beautiful face, and my heart constricts. Now that the anger has bled from my veins, I realize my harsh words hit the wrong target.

I rush across the room, but when I’m a few feet away, Adley takes a giant step back.

The look on her face stops me cold. “Adley—”

“Don’t.” She holds her hands up.

I want to reach out to her, touch her, soothe the unintentional pain I caused, but her brown eyes are wild and fierce, daring me to deny what she clearly heard me say.

“I don’t know what you heard, but—”

“Everything.” She laughs, the sound lacking any form of humor. “I heard everything. God, Lincoln. I had no idea that’s how you really felt. No wonder you wanted to keep things casual in the beginning; you knew we didn’t have a future. You knew you wouldn’t fall for me the way I was falling for you. And to think I was ready to tell you I love you. Because I do,” she says, brushing the tears from her cheeks.

All of the breath is sucked from my lungs. I’ve heard those three words from one other person in my life: Chloe. Well, two, if you count my dad saying them a few minutes ago. “Adley—”

“Don’t.” Tossing her hand in the air, she shakes her head frantically and turns, running past Chloe.

I’m stunned, rooted to floor as I watch my girl run from my life.

How did I let this happen?

I’m a fucking idiot, that’s how.

“Go,” Chloe says.