Maggie was awake too, sitting up. “What is it?”
“It’s Daisy,” Evie said, pulling on clothes in the dark. “She’s—I think it’s time.”
Maggie threw off the covers. “I’m coming with you.”
“Maggie, you can’t?—”
“I’m not going to the hospital,” Maggie said, already moving. “But I’m driving you. You’re not doing this alone.”
Evie didn’t argue.
They made the drive in silence, Maggie’s hand finding hers across the console. When they pulled up to the hospital entrance, Maggie squeezed her fingers once.
“Go,” Maggie said. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
“You don’t have to wait?—”
“I know,” Maggie said. “Go.”
Evie leaned across and kissed her—quick but fierce—then ran inside.
The palliative care floor was quiet at 2 AM, the lights dimmed, the usual hospital noise muted to something almost peaceful.
Daisy’s room was at the end of the hall.
Kara was already there, sitting beside the bed, holding her mother’s hand. She looked up when Evie entered, eyes red but dry—like she’d cried herself out hours ago.
“Doctor Brooks,” Kara said, her voice hoarse. “Thank you for coming.”
Evie crossed to the other side of the bed, taking in Daisy’s condition with a clinical eye even as her heart twisted. Breathing shallow and irregular. Skin pale, almost translucent. Blood pressure barely registering on the monitor.
This was it. She knew what was next.
“How long has she been like this?” Evie asked gently.
“A few hours,” Kara said. “She was restless earlier. Asking for you. For Doctor Laurel.”
Evie’s throat tightened. “I’m here now.”
She reached out, taking Daisy’s other hand. The skin was cool, papery thin. But Daisy’s eyes fluttered open at the touch, focusing with visible effort.
“Doctor Brooks,” Daisy whispered, so quiet Evie had to lean in to hear.
“I’m here, Daisy,” Evie said. “I’m right here.”
“Maggie?”
“She’s—” Evie swallowed. “She wanted to be here. But she can’t. I’m sorry.”
Daisy’s lips curved faintly. Not quite a smile, but close. “Tell her... thank you. For everything. I liked her.”
“I will.”
“Tell her...” Daisy’s breathing hitched, each word an effort. “Tell her... not to hide. Life’s too short... for hiding.”
Evie felt tears spill over. “I’ll tell her.”
Daisy’s gaze shifted to Kara, something softening in her expression. “Love you... baby girl.”
