“It’s not just a sprain, Dad. It’s an injury on top of an injury on top of an injury.”
“Jesus Christ, Emma?—”
“I know, OK?” She’s getting defensive now, pulling away from me. “I know I should have said something sooner. I know I fucked up. You don’t have to?—”
“That’s not what I was going to say.” Stone moves closer, his voice gentler. “I was going to say that it sucks. That I know how important dance is to you.”
Emma blinks, surprised. “Oh.”
Something in her posture softens. Like she’s seeing a side of her father she forgot existed.
“I know I haven’t been the best at . . .” He trails off, looking uncomfortable. “At being there for you. At being a real father instead of an MC president who happens to share your DNA. But I’m trying, Em. I want to do better.”
The room goes quiet. Stone and Emma just looking at each other until he takes a breath.
“What can I do?” he asks. “How can I help?”
“I don’t know,” Emma admits. “I don’t even know what I need right now.”
“That’s OK. I’ll talk to your doctor and we’ll figure it out.” Stone looks at me. “Bones, can I talk to you outside for a minute?”
Emma’s eyes widen slightly, but I squeeze her hand. “I’ll be right back.”
In the hallway, Stone leans against the wall and scrubs a hand over his face. He looks tired in a way I’ve never seen before—not physical exhaustion, but emotional.
“She’s going to spiral,” he says quietly. “When she processes this fully, she’s going to fall apart.”
“I know.”
“And you’re going to want to fix it. To protect her from the pain.” Stone meets my eyes. “But you can’t. Not this time.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you?” He pushes off the wall. “Because I’ve been watching you for weeks now, Bones. Watching the way you hover. The way you try to anticipate her needs before she even knows she has them. The way you’re still trying to be her protector instead of her partner.”
The words sting because they’re true.
“She needs to feel this,” Stone continues. “She needs to grieve what she’s losing and figure out who she is on the other side of it. And you need to let her do that without trying to save her from it.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“Neither do I, if I’m honest.” Stone’s smile is wry. “But Josie’s been helping me figure it out. Teaching me that sometimes the best thing you can do for someone you care about is to just . . . be there. Not fix it, not solve it. Just be present.”
The words settle heavy in my chest.
Just be there. Don’t fix it.
I’ve spent thirteen years fixing things for Emma. Showing up when she was in danger. Tracking her movements. Anticipating problems before they happened.
Being her protector was my entire purpose. My identity.
And Stone’s telling me to let that go. To just . . . watch her hurt and not do anything to try and take it on for her.
I know that’s what she needs. That I don’t even have the power to fix this for her. But how the fuck am I supposed to accept that?
I glance through the window at Emma and let out a sigh.
“You and Josie seem close,” I say, more as a distraction than anything.
