That’smy name. Hailey Scarlett Vaughn.
The swish of sliding doors muffles the whooshing in my ears and the mechanical beeps. Blinds ruffle softly as heavy boots shuffle on the floor.
It’s familiar. The heavy thump, the rhythm of his steps... Calming. Safe.
I swallow a ragged breath, marveling in the rush of oxygen filling my expanding lungs.
“It’s okay, sunshine,” Dad coos. “You’re fine. Try to calm down, okay? You’re safe, I promise.”
His calloused, warm hand covers mine, the familiarity of his touch so comforting that tears spring to my eyes. Relief rushes in, pushing the panic down enough to stabilize my breathing.
“Dad?” I rasp out, my vocal cords stuck together like strands of overcooked spaghetti.
“I’m here.” His fingers flex around mine, his tone loaded and emotional. “You’re okay, you’re in a hospital.”
I peek a little. The room’s blurry before I adjust, the burning sensation now manageable. Dad stands by the bed, his eyes heavy, bloodshot, and highlighted by dark circles. The salt and pepper of his hair, the crinkles around his mouth, deep lines marking his forehead... that’s not familiar. Not entirely. He looks like he aged ten years overnight.
“What—” I croak, the word sandpapering my dry throat. Using both hands for support, I try sitting up, but my body’s so heavy I barely move. “What happened?”
Dad’s quick to help, fluffing the pillows behind my back before carefully propping me up against them.
“Easy. Don’t rush, you must be sore.” His jaw works in tight circles and his eyes glisten with unshed tears. “You were in a car accident.”
“An accident?” I echo, knotting my eyebrows together. My mind whirls, searching for memories. There’s still nothing, save for my name and now Dad. I know me and I know him, but the accident... “I... I can’t remember.”
“That’s okay, sunshine.” He releases my hand to drag a chair closer. “Don’t worry about it. The doctor said you might beconfused when you wake up. Your tire blew and you veered off the road.” He blinks at me, pinching his lips. He does that when he’s overwhelmed. “You went down a slope. The car rolled three times before you hit a tree.”
I peer down the length of my body, mostly hidden under the white sheets and hospital gown. It’s hard to judge where I’m injured or if anything’s missing.
Everythinghurts.
I wiggle my toes, marveling in another wave of relief. All limbs present. That’s a start.
“How bad is it?”
“Could’ve been much worse,” Dad admits on a shaky exhale. He’s calming down. Tears no longer fill his blue eyes, and a small, crooked smile curls his mouth at the corners. “You’re a tough one. Always were. You’ll be fine. Just a few new scars for your collection. The biggest one will be here.” He touches the hollow of my shoulder. “A tree branch went through the window... speared you to the seat.”
I might not remember the accident, but I do remember that Dad always lays down the cold hard truth. Most parents—my mom included—would say something along the lines ofdon’t worry about it now, just rest, but not Dad.
I inhale sharply, realizing I can remember things. Not recent events or the accident, but... I remember stuff from years ago like the fact Dad doesn’t sugarcoat... that he never lies to me. Regardless of how painful the truth is.
When I snuck into his workshop as a little girl and accidentally cut my hand open on a saw, tearing through flesh and ligaments, Dad didn’t pretend that the stitching wouldn’t hurt.
When I fell off a tree three years later, ripping my thigh open against a sharp branch, he didn’t make out there’d be no mark when it healed.
When I fell off a bike at thirteen and split my lip hard enough it needed three stitches, Dad didn’t say it wouldn’t scar, even though by then I hated every scar marking my body.
I don’t need more scars. Thanks to my childhood clumsiness, I’m covered in them...
“Three broken ribs,” Dad continues, weaving his fingers through mine again. “Head trauma, internal bleeding, and twenty-nine stitches in total.” A heavy sigh saws past his lips. “You had me halfway to the grave with worry for a while, sunshine, but you’ll recover. I promise.”
That’s enough to calm me. Just as heneverlies, Dadalwayskeeps his promises.
I nod, my gaze sweeping the room. “Where’s Mom?”
“Mom?” Dad echoes. Surprise flashes across his face, giving way to a look I can’t quite place. “What do you mean, sunshine? She’s—” A single snort from his mouth sounds odd and makes little sense. His eyes grow rounder, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, running a heavy hand down his face. “I need to get the doctor. I won’t be long.”
“No! Please don’t leave,” I blurt out, reaching for him.
