I notice anyway.
I spread a thin layer of mustard. I add turkey from the fridge, then a slice of cheese, then tomato, because he likes it even when it makes the bread a little soggy.
I cut it in half and carry it over with the soup.
Then I stand there, staring at him like I can force him to be okay by watching closely enough.
Dad looks up at me, and his eyes soften. “You shouldn’t have had to do any of this,” he says.
The words hit too close to too many things at once.
I blink fast.
I force a smile. It feels like bad acting.
“I love you,” I say, and my voice cracks on the last word, so I say it again, firmer. “I love you. I’d do anything for you.”
He reaches across the table, slowly, and covers my hand with his. His palm is warm. Familiar.
“Baby,” he says quietly. “I don’t want you doing anything that costs you yourself.”
My throat closes.
I squeeze his hand once, then pull back before I start crying.
Because if I cry, it won’t stop.
“I’m going to call the hospital,” I say, too bright. “Right now. I’m going to schedule it. We’re going to get this done.”
Dad starts to speak.
I cut him off. “Eat.”
The word comes out sharper than I intend.
Again, the same tone.
Again, Nico echoes in my head, and my stomach flips.
Dad blinks, then gives me a small, helpless smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
I grab my phone from the counter with fingers that don’t feel steady.
I turn away before he can see my face.
I detour to the door and grab my backpack before taking the stairs to my room to make the call.
Chapter Fourteen
Nico
I pull up to my father’s house just before dinner and cut the engine.
The property is walled-in, private. High stone, iron gate, cameras tucked where you won’t notice them unless you know to look. Lights set low along the drive. Everything designed to keep people out and keep us in.
I don’t see the security, which means they’re doing their job right.
The main house sits deep on the lot, wide and solid, all pale stone and dark trim and warm window light that makes it look inviting.
