Page 63 of Royal Beast
I’ve made up my mind. When things settle, I’ll talk to Darcy again. Rose deserves security, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she knows she has it. But for now, I get Rose situated at the table with her food and go to make some calls.
I’ve already called the hospital once to check on Max’s condition, but this time, my questions are more pointed. It doesn’t take long to get the answers I’m looking for. The cost ofhis cancer treatments is staggering, and I can only imagine the weight Darcy’s been carrying trying to manage it.
Without hesitation, I give the billing department my details and settle the outstanding balance, plus the cost of tonight’s visit. “Make sure everything’s covered,” I tell the woman on the other end of the line, my tone leaving no room for argument.
When the call ends, I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. It’s a small gesture in the grand scheme of things, but if it means easing even a fraction of Darcy’s burden, it’s worth it.
By the time I step back into the living room, Rose is halfway through her plate. She grins up at me, her mouth full of carrots. “Are we still gonna get ice cream, Kellan?”
“Of course, Rosie Posie,” I say, managing a smile despite the tightness in my chest. “We’ll order some from your favorite place and they’ll bring it right here. Do you want to watch a movie while we eat the ice cream?”
After dinner, I help Rose wash her hands and clean the food residue from her cheeks. She chatters the whole time, telling me about a book they read at the library and how she wants to learn to ride a bike.
Once she’s cleaned up, I order some ice cream for delivery from a place around the corner and we settle on the couch to watch one of her favorite movies,Moana. By the time the ice cream arrives, we’re already halfway through, but Rose doesn’t mind. She eats her dessert with enthusiasm, giggling at the stuff on the screen and asking me a million questions about the movie that I don’t know, delighting in the made-up answers I give her.
It’s nice. It’s easy. A rare pocket of calm in the stormy times we seem to be living through.
By the time the credits roll, Rose is curled up against me, her little snores soft and steady. I carry her to her room, tucking her in with her stuffed rabbit. She stirs as I brush her hair from her face but doesn’t wake.
I linger for a moment, just watching her. She’s so small, so unaware of the chaos that surrounds our world. I want to keep it that way.
When I return to the living room, my phone buzzes on the coffee table. Seeing Darcy’s name on the screen, I pick up immediately. “Darcy?”
Her voice is shaky, and I can tell she’s been crying. “Kellan… it’s bad. He’s very sick. The doctors don’t think my dad has much time left.”
My stomach twists. I grip the phone tighter, searching for the right words, but there’s nothing that can make this easier for her. “Darcy, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
“I don’t know,” she says, her voice breaking. “I just needed to tell you.”
“You’re not alone in this,” I tell her firmly. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”
There’s a beat of silence, and when she finally speaks again, her words are quieter. “Thanks, Kellan.”
The call ends, but the weight of her words lingers. Max doesn’t have much time left. I don’t know what I can say or do to help Darcy right now, but I’m going to make sure she knows she’s not alone. I’m here for her, whatever she needs from me.
31
DARCY
The hospital air is sterile and cold, carrying with it the faint sting of antiseptic and something that reminds me of death. I tighten my grip on my bag as I make my way down the hall, my heart pounding with every step. The nurse had said Room 407, and when I reach it, I pause, my hand hovering over the door handle.
I’m not ready for this.
Taking a steadying breath, I push the door open.
The sight of my father nearly knocks me off balance. Max was always larger than life, a man who could fill a room with his voice and his presence. But the figure lying in the hospital bed is frail, his once-strong frame diminished and his face pale, lines of exhaustion streaked across the surface.
His eyes flutter open, and for a moment, they don’t focus. But then recognition dawns and his lips curl into a weak smile. “Darcy.”
I force a smile and step closer to the bed, pulling up the chair beside him. “Hi, Dad.” My voice is soft and careful, as if speaking too loudly might destroy what little strength he has left.
“You came,” he rasps, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Of course I did,” I say, taking his hand in mine. It feels so thin, so fragile, and it breaks something inside me. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
He closes his eyes for a moment as if summoning the energy to speak. “No, Darcy. I’m the one who should be sorry. For everything. The choices I made, the things I did…” He trails off, his voice cracking. “I put you through hell. You didn’t deserve that.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. “Oh, Papa,” I whisper, moving closer to grasp his pale, cold hands.
