Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

The drive to the hospital blurs into a haze as Julian navigates the roads as quickly as he can. The silence between us hangs heavy in the air. My leg bounces nervously as I pick at the skin on the corner of my nail until Julian’s hand covers mine, instantly calming my frayed nerves. I glance up, studying him as he keeps his gaze fixed on the road ahead, his jaw clenched and brows furrowed while gripping the steering wheel tightly with his other hand.

I follow his gaze out the windshield toward a still-sleeping Haven, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. Hot tears burn my vision as I regret not coming back sooner—before the accident, when we still had time.

“Lina,” Julian’s voice is steady but low, breaking through my thoughts as we come to a stop at a red light. I turn my head, surprised to find him staring back at me, his eyes warm and full of concern. “You still have time.” He squeezes my hand as the light turns green.

I nod and squeeze back, grateful for his presence right now, wanting to reassure him as well. He’s the one who’s been here after all, spending time I should have been with my dad.

“You never told me how you and my dad got close?”

He chuckles softly. “It was after my deployment, after my grandma passed and left me the house. I was a mess, trying to figure out what to do next while my head still felt buried in the sand. I was broken, lost, and alone. A lot of people I considered family turned away from me, and then your dad showed up with his toolbox and a can of paint, talking about the condition of my grandmother’s home. Next thing I knew, we were redoing the siding and painting the walls. When it was all done, he was still there, checking up on me. He’d talk about you, your books, and the pieces of you buried in different characters..”

“He’s read my books?” I ask, surprise flooding my voice.

“Read them? He learned how to annotate them after he came across one of your reader groups talking about it.”

I can’t help smiling through my tears at the thought of him now.

“Your dad and your books reminded me that as long as I found something or someone to hold on to, I could always find my way back.”

“I’m glad he had you,” I say softly, squeezing his hand.

“Me too.”

As Julian pulls into the hospital parking lot, I tighten my grip on his hand, like he’s my lifeline—the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

The doctor’s words still echo in my head—“critical” and “surgery”—stuck on a loop as the sounds of the monitors and machines fade into the distance. Time feels like it’s been at a standstill since this morning, and the surgery Dad needed dragged well into the afternoon. Now, all we can do is wait. That’s what the doctor said, at least, but I don’t think I can sit here staring at this pale, fragile version of my dad for another second.

My heart pounds harder in my chest with every second that passes, each one feeling like an hour, trapping me in this room. A tight knot forms in my stomach, twisting with each thought racing through my mind. What if he doesn’t wake up? What if yesterday was all we had? What if?—

“You need to eat,” Julian says, walking into the room holding a takeout bag. The sweet smell of BBQ incites a vicious growl from my stomach, one I don’t even recognize. But the idea of eating feels impossible with these nerves making me feel sick.

“Don’t make that face,” Julian says. “I could hear your stomach down the hall.” He pops the lid open on one of the containers and forks out some pulled pork, leaning closer to hold it just in front of my lips.

“Open,” he says, his voice almost a whisper as his gaze drops to my mouth.

I lean in just enough to take a bite, savoring the smoky flavor before pulling back. But I can’t help glancing back at my dad’s still-sleeping figure, guilt gnawing at me as I shake my head.

“No more,” I say, pulling away as I chew the bit I have in my mouth. I lean back in the chair and wrap my arms around my knees, tucking them to my chest.

Julian sighs, setting the container aside. He rummages through the takeout bag, and I suddenly feel the urge to send him away.

“Fries?”

I shake my head.

“Your dad will kill me if he finds out I let you starve yourself for his sake.”

“Damn right I will,” my dad’s voice, hoarse and gravelly, cuts through the air, shocking both Julian and me.

“Dad.” I jump up, my heart racing as relief washes over me. I lean over him, wrapping my arms around him as best as I can, careful of all the wires attached to him. Julian steps closer, rubbing the tears from his own eyes before placing a hand on my dad’s shoulder.

“You scared us there, old man.”

“Punk,” Dad replies, but the effort shows on his face, his words coming out slowly like a puff of air.

The hairs on the back of my neck raise as I notice him struggling to move his arms, his fingers twitching slightly.

“Do you feel okay?”

He looks at me, concern and fear filling his eyes as he tries to answer, “I... I’m...”

“I’ll go grab the doctor,” Julian whispers, rushing out of the room.

“Li-li-li?—”

“It’s okay,” I try to reassure him, wrapping my hand over his and squeezing tight. His fingers twitch beneath mine. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Dad.”