His sister was a beast. A warrior. They hardly knew each other, not like adults, but that part, at least, was clear. She’d walk out of here in the morning and wrestle her diagnosis into submission as with everything else.
“I’m only a couple hours away,” he said carefully. “If you need something, it’s not far. I could help.”
Lacey patted his hand. “You’re going to have to walk the walk on that one.”
She wasn’t offering forgiveness, not yet, but Linc was willing to start.
He risked a glance at their sleeping father, but he hadn’t woken during their entire conversation. He turned his attention back to Lacey. “I need to tell you something. About Dad. And Mickey.”
Lacey grimaced. “Do we really need to rehash that?”
Linc breathed slowly, focusing on his sister, who deserved the truth, and not the old fear and shame that always blazed to life when he thought about that night. “And I need to tell you something about me. Because I was there too.”
