Page 95 of Sinful
Dad's sitting up in bed, looking better.
There’s even color in his face.
Eyes alert and focused instead of clouded by pain meds.
He sees me and his expression softens.
"There's my warrior daughter," he says.
The words hit me like a punch to the heart.
My warrior daughter.
He's never called me that before.
Always called Elfe the warrior. The strong one. The fighter.
Never me.
Tears burn in my eyes but I blink them back. "Hey, Dad. How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck, then the truck backed up and hit me again." But he's smiling. "But I'm alive. Thanks to you."
"I didn't?—"
"You did." His remaining hand—the right one, thank the Gods—reaches for me.
I take it, his grip surprisingly strong. "You came for me. Rode into Los Coyotes territory alone. That takes guts."
"Or stupidity."
"Sometimes they're the same thing." He glances at Mom, who's sitting in the chair beside his bed looking tired but content. "Your mother tells me you've been taking care of things while I was gone."
"Elfe did most of it."
"Elfe had help." Mom's voice is gentle. "Don't diminish what you did, sweetheart."
I don't know what to say to that.
After a few minutes of small talk—Dad's recovery, the club, what he's missed—Mom stands.
"Elfe, stay with your father for a minute. I need to talk to Helle."
My stomach drops.
Elfe gives me a look that says good luck, and Mom leads me out into the hallway.
She doesn't speak right away.
Just looks at me with those mother's eyes that see everything.
"I need to say something," she says finally. "And Ineedyou to listen."
I tense, expecting judgment.
"I was angry when you left three years ago. Angrythat you didn't come to me, didn't let me help. Angry that I'd failed you somehow as a mother."
"Mom—"
