"I'll be back," I promise. "As soon as they let me."
Reilan's hand settles on my shoulder as we leave. In the hallway, William is exactly where I left him. Alert. Watchful. Looking like he hasn't moved an inch.
"How is he?" William asks.
"Alive." It's the only word that matters. "He's alive."
"Good." William's jaw unclenches slightly. "We should go. It's late, and—"
"No."
He blinks at me. "No?"
"No," I repeat firmly. "I'm staying here. With my father."
"Aoife, it's past midnight. You're exhausted. You need to—"
"I need to be here." I cut him off. "In case he wakes up. In case something happens. In case—" My voice cracks, and I force it steady. "I'm staying."
William and Reilan exchange a look. Some kind of silent communication, I'm too tired to decipher.
"Then I'm staying, too," Reilan says.
"So am I," William adds.
I want to argue. Want to send them both away so I can sit with my father in peace. But the truth is, I'm grateful. Grateful not to be alone in this sterile hospital while my father fights for his life.
Grateful that in this moment, for once, I don't have to be strong by myself.
We return to Father's room. I take the chair beside his bed again. Reilan leans against the wall by the window. William stations himself by the door like a sentinel.
And we wait.
The night stretches long and dark. The hospital settles into its nocturnal rhythm. Nurses check in periodically, adjusting monitors, noting vitals. They speak in hushed tones and move with practiced efficiency.
I don't sleep. Can't. Just sit holding Father's hand and watching the rise and fall of his chest. Counting breaths like prayers.
Reilan dozes eventually, his head tilted back against the wall. William doesn't sleep either. Just stands there, silent and watchful, like he's guarding us all from whatever comes next.
At some point, the sky outside the window begins to lighten. Dawn creeping in to paint the room in shades of gray. The machines continue their steady beeping. Father remains unconscious.
And I sit.
And watch.
And wait for him to wake up, so I can tell him everything I should have said before. Before tonight. Before the bullet. Before I ever walked into the Murphy house and signed my life away.
Before it all went wrong.
Sunlight is streaming through the window when William finally speaks.
"It's time to go."
I don't look at him. Don't acknowledge the words. Just keep my eyes on Father's face, willing him to wake.
"Aoife." William's voice is closer now. "You've been here all night. You need rest. Food. Sleep."
"No."
