"We’re not sneaking," I say with a roll of my eyes. "We’re just… having fun. And when I go back to LA, he’ll still be here."
Maybe.
Dad doesn’t let go of my hand. "I’ve been thinking about you and Brooks."
I blow out a breath. "Why?"
"Because I was wrong," he says simply. "I’m sorry for insinuating you’d hurt him. That wasn’t fair. I’m just… protective of him. He’s lost so much. I didn’t want to watch him lose again."
"I wouldn’t be anunimaginableloss," I try to joke, though my voice is weak.
"You would," he says, deadly serious. "Elowen, you’d be the one loss he wouldn’t know how to come back from."
I swallow hard. "I’m not trying to hurt anyone, Dad. Brooks is a grown man. If he can’t handle the fact that I might leave, then maybe he shouldn’t have…" I trail off.
Shouldn’t have kissed me. Shouldn’t have broken things off with Mitsy. Shouldn’t have held me like that, or looked at me like I’m the only person in the room.
"Should I be worried that you’re not concerned I might be the one who gets hurt?" I say, shifting the focus.
"You’re Elowen Donovan," he says with a weary smile. "You don’t get hurt."
"That’s not true," I whisper. "You just never saw it. I got good at bleeding where no one could see."
"I’m sorry I didn’t see it." He studies me with soft, heavy eyes. Then, "You like him."
"No," I blurt, too quickly.
A knowing grin tugs at his lips. "You like hima lot."
I look away.
"I don’t," I lie again, because telling the truth means I might have to face it.
"It’s okay if you do," he says gently. "I just didn’t realize… you felt it, too."
"This is not a conversation I want to have with my dad," I mutter, trying to smile through the heat building behind my eyes.
Dad’s voice softens. "Maybe I should be worried you’ll get hurt, too."
I sit on the edge of his bed and force a smile. "I’ll be fine."
"Even when you’re not," he finishes.
My heart throbs. "I love you, Dad."
He squeezes my hand. "I love you more, Ellie Girl."
We hear a throat clear. I turn toward the door and see Mom standing there. "Brooks is waiting in the truck," she says softly, then turns her smile to Dad.
"I’ll see you tomorrow," I say, rising to my feet. I lean down and kiss Dad’s forehead, lingering just a second longer than usual. "We’ll get you home soon."
As I pass Mom, I gently touch her shoulder, a silent thank you for everything she’s been doing. Then I walk down the long hallway, past the machines and nurses and the low hum of fluorescent lights, until I finally walk through the sliding glass doors to the parking lot.
Brooks is waiting, leaning against his old truck, arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other. He’s in worn jeans and a crisp white button-down, the top buttons undone, revealing the faintest V of sun-kissed skin. He looks like yesterday and a future I didn’t plan for.
Without a word, I walk straight into his arms.
He wraps them around me like they’ve always belonged there, and I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. The breeze stirs the hem of my shirt. The world quiets.
