Pops gives him a look. “Don’t start.”
Cameron doesn’t flinch. “I’m not starting. I’m observing.”
Pops opens his mouth like he’s going to shut it down. Then closes it again, jaw working like it’s taking more effort than he wants us to see.
“Just waiting on the scan,” Pops says instead, voice level. “Once we get the results, we’ll know what we’re dealing with.”
Cam nods, but it’s just to acknowledge the words, not deal with what they truly imply. “I’m gonna go say bye to Sloane before I head out,” Cameron says, throwing his sandwich wrapper into the trash as he walks out of the kitchen.
Pops and I sit there silently for a moment.
“It’s weird,” he says finally. “Waiting.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah.”
“Tomorrow,” he adds, like he doesn’t need to say the rest.
I swallow. Hard. “You think it’s bad?”
“I think my body’s trying to tell me something that I don’t really want to listen to.”
The words land heavy.
“Doesn’t mean it’s the worst thing,” he adds. “Could be swelling. Could be nothing. Could be…a lot.” He exhales slowly. “Either way, we’re gonna deal with it. Like we always do.”
I nod like I’m capable of nodding through that.
He glances at me, eyes steady. “You okay?”
That almost makes me laugh.
Am I okay?
My knee is a ruin.
My future is a giant-ass question mark.
The man who helped raise me is talking like he can feel the ground shifting beneath him.
And the girl I’ve wanted since I was seventeen has been moving through this house like she’s one bad look away from shattering.
“I’m fine,” I say automatically.
His brows lift, and he smiles faintly—then winces, pressing his fingers to his temple again.
“Is it a bad one?” I ask too fast.
“Little one,” he says. “Don’t go tattling to Sloane.”
“She already knows,” I mutter. “She knows everything before the rest of us do.”
He hums. “That’s the problem.”
“Can I ask you a favor?” Pops’s voice is quieter now, almost hesitant.
My spine straightens automatically. “Anything.”
“Don’t say that before you hear the ask,” he says, a hint of amusement creeping into his tone despite everything. “You might regret it.”
