A ghost of a smile touched his lips.“Ada’s my rock.She’s also the reason I found you.”
We paused outside Brynn’s door.Through the small window, I could see them still engrossed in conversation, Ada laughing at something Brynn said.My daughter’s face looked more animated than it had in months.
Knight’s hand hesitated near the door handle, his gaze meeting mine.“Ready?”
In this moment, standing outside our daughter’s hospital room, we found a fragile truce in the shared hope that Knight’s body contained exactly what Brynn needed to survive.
“I’m ready,” I said, and together we stepped inside Brynn’s hospital room.
Chapter Five
Knight
I shifted the backpack strap on my shoulder as I approached Brynn’s hospital room, the weight of the board games inside pulling against my shoulder.My gut tightened with each step.Games seemed like a pathetic peace offering after eleven years of absence, but I needed something to bridge the Grand Canyon-size gap between us.Through the small window in the door, I spotted her sitting up in bed, her midnight-blue hair a stark contrast against the sterile white pillow.Ada sat in a chair beside her, and both were reading silently.I took a deep breath and pushed the door open.
The steady beep of monitors greeted me first, followed by two pairs of eyes, Ada’s warm and welcoming, Brynn’s wary and guarded.Her gaze swept over me from head to toe, taking in the tattoos that crawled up my neck and over my face, the bulging backpack, my Kiss of Death cut.I’d left it on deliberately.No point hiding who I’d become.
“Hey,” I said, the word inadequate as hell.“Brought something that might help pass the time.”
Brynn closed her book, placing it on her lap.Her gaze tracked every move I made as I approached the bed.Ada stood, giving me a quick smile.
“I’ll grab some water,” she said, touching my arm as she passed.Her silent support steadied me.
The plastic chair Ada vacated creaked under my weight as I claimed it.The backpack landed with athudon the floor as I sat.
“What’s in there?”Brynn asked, curiosity winning out over her determination to remain distant.
“Strategy games.Card games.Stuff that requires actual brain power.”I pulled out the first box -- a complex European board game with intricate wooden pieces.“This one’s about building medieval cities.Lots of resource management, planning ahead.”I set it on the bed near her feet.The next game featured miniature warriors.“This one’s about tactical warfare.Positioning troops, terrain advantages.”
Brynn’s fingers twitched against her book cover.“I beat my mom at chess when I was six.”
“Yeah?”I stacked a third game on top.“These might actually challenge you, then.”
Her eyes lingered on the top box, the corners of her mouth almost -- almost -- turning up.“That one.What’s that?”
I passed it to her, watching as she turned it over to read the back.“It’s a game about establishing trade dominance through shipping routes.Has a bunch of different strategies to win.”
“I’ve read about this one online.”She opened the box, her thin fingers running over the game board.“It’s supposed to be pretty good.For a board game.”
“Want to set it up?”I kept my voice casual, like her answer didn’t matter.Like my heart wasn’t hammering against my ribs.
She shrugged but started unpacking the pieces.“Whatever.”
I adjusted her bed tray, clearing away the hospital lunch remains.The smell of overcooked vegetables lingered, mixing with the ever-present antiseptic.I longed to make sure she got food that didn’t smell like ass, but also knew she’d be on a diet approved for her kidneys.As I arranged the board, Brynn watched my hands with undisguised curiosity.
“Those hurt?”she asked, nodding at my knuckle tattoos.
“Like a motherfucker.”The words slipped out before I could censor myself.“Sorry.Like hell.”
“I’m eleven, not five.I’m not gonna clutch my pearls on my fainting couch if someone says motherfucker.”She rolled her eyes.“How long were you in prison?”
The question hit like a sucker punch, but I kept my face neutral as I finished setting up the game board.The colored wooden pieces clicked against the plastic tray.
“Eight years, four months, seventeen days.”I arranged the resource cards in neat piles.“Got out early for good behavior and because I helped the feds with some other financial crimes.”
Her eyes narrowed.“What did you do?To go to prison?”
I met her gaze directly.No bullshit.“Embezzlement.Worked for a big investment firm.Moved money around where it shouldn’t go.Got greedy.”I picked up the rulebook, flipping through it.“Started small, helping out friends who needed loans.Ended up taking millions.”
