Do they even know about me?
I have no idea.
All I know is that Alana’s nervous, and that makes me nervous. I don’t even know if Effa told them about us. I always figured I’d meet them eventually.
Just not like this.
I tighten my hold on Effa’s hand. The doctor said they might start bringing her out of the coma tomorrow, depending on her brain response. It’s a waiting game now, seeing what damage, if any, the Rohypnol and lack of oxygen left behind.
I replay that night more than I should.
I can only hope I did enough.
The door opens, and a nurse steps inside with a small smile. “Afternoon. Her parents are on their way in. We’ll need you to head back to the waiting area for now.”
My pulse jumps, but I nod.
I lean down and brush my lips against Effa’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon, beautiful,” I murmur, reluctant to let her hand go.
Andi and I step out into the hallway, where everyone has practically set up camp these last two days. The whole crew’s here—the band, Luke, Tank, Jay, Raoul, Cooper with his stitched-up arm. No one’s left Effa’s side.
That’s what family does.
The sharp click of heels and the heavy rhythm of running shoes echo down the corridor, and we turn at the same time.
A man and a woman are heading straight for us. The man is tall, with gray hair falling across his forehead in a way that feels more deliberate than messy. He looks worn from travel but solid, broad-shouldered, weathered, the kind of man who’s worked hard his whole life. His khaki jacket hangs open over a flannel shirt and jeans that look older than I am. There’s something grounded about him.
The woman beside him is the opposite—vibrant, styled, unmistakably Effa’s people. Her blonde hair falls to her shoulders in soft waves, her makeup flawless despite the long flight. A flowing tie-dyed kaftan trails around her as she floats rather than walks. Even exhausted, she radiates energy.
“Mum!” Alana rushes forward.
They fold her into a hug immediately. The woman, Lettie, I assume, covers Alana’s face in lipstick-mark kisses until Alana protests.
“Mum, stop! I’m fine.”
Lettie pulls back just enough to study her. “I needed to see you, darling.”
The man’s gaze sweeps the room before landing on Luke. His jaw tightens before he asks, “How is she?”
Luke steps forward, offering his hand. “She’s improving. They’re hoping to remove the ventilator tomorrow.”
The man takes the handshake but doesn’t soften. “You were meant to look after her.”
The words land heavy.
Luke doesn’t deflect. “I know. I’m sorry.”
It’s strange seeing Luke like this with his shoulders squared, but his voice edged with guilt.
The man exhales slowly. “I’m not pretending I’m not angry. When you took them on tour, you promised they’d be safe.”
Alana steps in quickly. “Donny, this wasn’t Luke’s fault. If you’re blaming anyone, blame Jett Jones. He’s the one who drugged her.”
Donny’s expression darkens. “Where was her American boyfriend?”
There it is.
I step forward before anyone else can answer.
