My mom gasps, stopping me with a hand on my arm. “Don’t be silly, they have buttons for that.” She presses a blue button on the side of the bed, and I’m slowly lifted into a half-seated position before she releases it. “Oh, before I forget: Isaac wants you to call him, but only once you’re feeling up for it. He’s flying in to see you next week.”
I glance from my mom to Vincent, then back again. Then I ask the only thing that matters. “Where’s Eva?” My throat burns when I speak, the words rough and dry, like I haven’t spoken in days.
When neither of them respond, only stare at me blankly, awareness and anger pool in my veins with such heat it’s painful.
“She’s here somewhere, right?” Images, raw and visceral, flood me—Eva, tied up and beaten down. Tear-stained cheeks, quick breaths, bloody knife in her grasp. Scarred and tormented but still determined to support my weight and reassure meI’dbe okay. Despite everything she went through, she was only concerned about me. The thought fucking floors me. And now, picturing her somewhere alone claws at my chest with an intensity so violent my knuckles flex and spasm.
My jaw locks, and I grit, “Don’t tell me you’ve been here for God-knows-how-long,” I pause, struggling to keep the emotion from my voice, “waiting for me to wake up, and you haven’t bothered to check on her.”
Guilt crosses Vincent’s expression, fleeting but obvious, while Mom’s eyes widen then narrow. “We were informed she’s in the children’s wing. But Easton, that girl ... that girl is the last thing you should be concerned about right now. You almost died, Easton! In fact, youdiddie, and they had to resuscitate you! If it hadn’t been for her—”
“If it hadn’t been for her,” I interrupt slowly, tamping down the fury rising up my chest and lacing my words in a dangerous warning, “I wouldn’t know what it means to be selfless. God knows you two never showed me.”
Vincent shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and my mom gapes at me.
“When you took Eva in, you were supposed to take care of her. Not throw her out like a fucking piece of trash.”
“But I—I didn’t. I wouldn’t. Perry was going to take care of her. You know that perfectly well.”
“What?” Vincent takes a slow, intimidating step toward her. “You were planning on sending Eva toPerry?”
“Well, I ... don’t look at me like that. Don’t act like you’re the better parent. You weren’t even home.”
My heart beats with iron fists inside my chest—fists I didn’t know I could summon in front of my parents—and the words, backed by ferocious heat and years of self-restraint, pour from me without caution. “It wasn’t enough when she was thirteen, homeless, and starving for you to treat her like a human being. It still wasn’t enough when she was living under your roof trying so hard to please you, dutifully making your spiked coffee and putting up with your ignorant comments. And now—now that she was kidnapped and attacked, thanks to the driveryousent her away with, now that she nearly fucking died, it’s still not enough for you to treat her with decency, is it? For either of you? Will it ever be enough, or are you both so self-absorbed you will never be decent parents? Decentpeople?”
My parents stare at me, stunned, their mouths parted but no words coming out. I’ve never spoken to them like this, and the shift isn’t just on the exterior. For the first time in almost nineteen years, I feel it inside me, my own voice. Outside of my parents, connections, expectations—justmeand everything I stand for.
My gaze on them is unwavering. “Did you at least find out what happened to the guy who kidnapped her? Do you fucking care?”
Vincent clears his throat, his neck reddening in a way I’ve never seen, and finds his voice first. “Of course, we do. I spoke to the officers in charge of the case. Easton ... I’m ... I don’t ... I don’t know what to say.”
“What to say?” My mom looks from Vincent to me. “Darling, consider the circumstances—”
“Say one more word, Mom. Say one more word to excuse the way you and Dad have treated her, and I swear to fucking God, neither of you will ever see me again.”
Silence floods the small hospital room and wraps around their necks, suffocating their precious image. My mom’s eyes beg for mercy, sympathy, whatever it is she thinks will let them off the hook, but the fact is, there’s only one thing they can say right now, and it’s not me they need to be saying it to.
Knock, knock.
“Come in.” My gaze, unshaken and dispassionate, slides to the door, where a nurse has entered. Behind her, Zach’s messy curls bob up and down beside Whitney as he tries to glimpse a view of me.
The nurse looks between me and my parents, then offers a tight smile. Guess the tension is visible from the doorway.
“How are you feeling? Any pain?”
“I’m fine. How long until I can walk around a little?”
“It’ll be a bit. You lost a lot of blood, and that IV right there is helping replace some of it, along with fluids and pain relief. However, you have a couple more visitors if you’re up for it. I just need to check your vitals first.”
I nod my consent, and I mentally block out my abnormally hovering parents as the nurse goes through the motions robotically. I suppress a grimace when she changes the bandage stretching from my back around my rib cage. It’s only now, while cold instruments probe and check my heartbeat, blood pressure, and temperature, that I realize how fucking exhausted I am. Thanks to the pain meds, I don’t feel like I’ve been stabbed or had a kidney removed. But only sleep will be enough to erase the crippling weakness depleting my muscles—a feeling I’m guessing resembles being hit by a train—and there’s no way I’m shutting my eyes again until I figure out a way to see Eva.
When the nurse leaves, she allows Zach and Whitney to enter before shutting the door behind her.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Rutherford.” Whitney’s smile is forced as she waves at them. “Thank you again for calling me.”
“Hello, Whitney,” my mom says. “Zach.”
“’Sup. I mean, hi. Hello.” Zach tips his chin and slowly bends at the waist. Pretty sure that’s a bow. “Good day.”
