Page 65 of Thrones We Steal

The Wesbourne Cancer Institute is world-renowned for its groundbreaking research on cancer and innovative treatments for curing it. A new wing was just added for their youngest patients: children.

We walk down the quiet halls on our private tour. The colorful artwork on the walls, the glass-walled indoor playgrounds, and the soft music being piped through the speakers are all designed to deceive you into thinking you aren’t in a hospital at all, but instead at a very large and squeaky-clean daycare.

But there is nothing to be done for the scent.

No amount of crayon drawings, nurses in Eeyore scrubs, or soft block towers in the corners can mask the fact that this is a hospital. And despite what everyone says about them being places of healing, hospitals are where people come to die.

Although I vaguely recall Maisie going over the itinerary for our visit in the car, I was so consumed with the idea of seeing Beck again that I wasn’t paying attention. If I had been, there’s no way I would have agreed to step through those doors without more of a fight. As it is, I am now being herded down the corridors with our whole entourage, the chief medical officer pointing out the things we should be impressed by. Most of these are followed by murmured approvals and quiet questions.

I don’t understand why we can’t stop in the rooms and meet some of the patients. What better way to bring cheer than a visit from the king himself, but we pass each door without slowing. Apparently we are too busy or too important to be bothered by dying children.

One of the doorways we pass is open, and I peek inside. A tiny boy is lying in bed watching the telly, a stuffed bear tucked under his arm. I smile and give him a little wave. His face lights up in return. I’m about to step into the room when my eyes are drawn to the large Cat in the Hat balloon bobbing above the bed. I freeze.

The hesitation is just long enough for the nurse inside to stick her head around the door and close it with a gentle smile. I steel my jaw as the memory sweeps over me. I will not fall apart here. I can’t.

It taunts me behind my closed eyelids: a sad, red balloon with Get well soon! scrawled across the foil, like the forced cheerfulness could somehow convince the body to eradicate the sickness that is sucking the life from it, one long slurp at a time.

It was the first thing I saw when I walked into his hospital room. His cold, ashen face was the next.

I had been too late.

And the sadistic balloon mocked me for my absence.

My stomach heaves as we round another corner, and a nurse sweeps past us, pushing a triage cart and a gust of antiseptic air. I need to find a bathroom and then an exit.

“You okay?” Henry says softly and wraps his fingers around my elbow.

I cannot let him know how much the gesture makes me want to crumble into his security. I glance up at him and do my best to smile, although I can’t be sure it doesn’t look more like a grimace. “Fine. Why?”

“You’re in danger of snapping your bracelet.”

I lower my eyes to my wrist and realize I’ve been twisting the thin metal band so hard he’s right—it could have snapped. I drop my fingers. “It’s this place,” I say.

“I assumed.” He scans the hallway, then whispers something to one of the PPOs behind us. “Come with me.” He steers me to a bathroom.

After splashing cold water on my face, I attempt a deep breath, but quickly give up that idea. Even hospital bathrooms smell like death. My watch says it’s already 10:40. Beck will be waiting for me soon. My heart picks up speed like a car merging onto the highway.

I have to get out of here. The only problem is how to sneak past both Henry and the PPOs. I may be able to convince Henry to take me to the park, but there’s no way he’ll leave me alone, even with Beck. Especially with Beck. Regardless, it’s my only shot at the moment.

“I need some air,” I say after exiting the restroom. “There’s a park a few blocks away. Walk me over there?”

Winchester Park isn’t your average city park. It’s more of a small national park plunked into the center of the city, skyscrapers growing around its perimeter like a hedge. A rocky bluff overlooks the expanse of Wesbourne suburbia, and evergreen trees line the asphalt path that winds through the park. We see few people as we walk, the park offering plenty of privacy with its towering pines and rock boulders.

My phone vibrates in my bag and I pull it out.

I’m at the bluff.

Palms suddenly sweaty, I return the phone to my small bag and wipe them on my dress. My heart is now jackhammering in my chest. “Do you mind if I walk alone?” I ask without looking at Henry. My lying skills aren’t exactly first-rate. “I just need to—Thinking about my dad—”

He hesitates, scans the area around us. It’s deserted. “Don’t go far. You never know who might spot you.” He gives my green dress a pointed glance. “You don’t exactly blend in with the trees.”

At least I didn’t wear the yellow.

Moving down the path as quickly as I dare without seeming to hurry off, I find my way to the edge of the park. I don’t meet a single person. When I reach the bluff, Beck has his back turned to me, and I take a minute to study him. He seems taller than I remember, but has the same lean build as always. His hands are stuck in his pockets as he looks out over the rocky ledge, which causes his elbows to jut out at sharp angles.

“Beck.” It’s tentative, almost a whisper, but he hears.

He turns to face me but doesn’t move any closer, so I stay where I am, arms dangling awkwardly at my sides. He must have come directly from the office. He’s wearing his usual uniform of navy suit, white shirt, and gray tie.

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