I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.
I force myself to respond. “Is he… alive?”
“Yes, he’s strong as a bull,” she says, her tone carrying a hint of disappointment. The breath I finally suck in is shallow and painful.
This can’t be happening. Not now. “Thank you for letting me know.” I end the call, my hands shaking as I shove them into the pocket of my summer dress.
The double doors swing open, and Declan steps back. “He’s getting his cast. Where is Zoya?”
I whip around. “Zoya?” I say, uselessly.
“Where is she?” Declan roars.
“I took a phone call… She must be somewhere here…” I dash down the corridor, opening the doors.
“You were supposed to watch her,” Declan accuses me.
This is too much. I reach the corner, and my heart almost bursts out of my chest. “Zoya.”
“I found the chocolate baws.” She waves at me, standing in front of a vending machine.
Declan passes me, rushing to her. “You can’t wander off like this.”
“We wanted to get tweats fow you, Daddy.”
Her adorable innocence breaks something insideme, and I lean against the wall, tears rolling down my cheeks.
For Zach. For Zoya. For my father.
For Declan. For us.
I sense their approach, and I quickly wipe away the tears.
“We got one fow you, Lily.” My precious girl hands me a bar.
“Thank you.” My voice cracks.
Declan’s gaze flicks at me. He sighs and stops, not too close, not touching me.
“My father is in the hospital. He had a heart attack,” I whisper.
“Fuck,” he murmurs.
“Money in the jaw,” Zoya chimes. “Whewe is Zach?”
Declan takes her hand and heads toward the exam room. I follow him, my mind blank. It’s like a freight train ran over me, leaving me completely flat. Exhausted by everything, the emotional turmoil of the past few hours is taking its toll.
I search for sadness, anger, frustration, but I’m only numb. Hollow. Declan was barely holding it together this past week, and I guess he reached his limit. I wish I could fight for us.
But this is not the time. He needs to be here for his children. Zach is hurt; they are both shaken up afterthe incident. This is where he needs to be, and suddenly, I don’t feel like I belong.
The double door opens yet again, and the nurse wheels Zach in. He looks groggy, but gives us a curt nod. That’s almost like a smile for the little dude.
“How are you, Zach?” I try to smile, ignoring my ripped heart.
“I got a cast,” he says with a sense of pride, like it’s his battlefield trophy, but his voice is tired too.