And suddenly the room felt very, very small.
Chapter eighteen
Damien
One second my brother was barely conscious—foggy, disoriented, struggling to piece together the room around him. The next, his eyes flew wide, fixed on Candace with startling intensity.
"That's her," he rasped. His hand lifted from the bed—fingers reaching toward nothing. "That's the voice."
Candace froze. I watched confusion flicker across her face, her eyes darting to me, then my mother, then back to Sebastian waiting for someone to explain.
"I'm sorry?" She let out a nervous laugh. "I don't—"
"The angel." Sebastian hadn't looked away. "You were here. You were talking to me."
"Candace has been watching over you," I said, stepping closer to the bed. The monitors beeped their steady rhythm, the only sound in the sudden stillness.
Sebastian's brow furrowed, his gaze locked on Candace.
"She volunteered," I continued. "Sat with you for hours. Held your hand."
Candace shifted on her feet, uncertainty crossing her face. "It was nothing. Really. I just—"
"You talked to me." The words scraped out raw. "I remember."
The color drained from Candace's cheeks.
"I couldn't make out all of it," he continued, each word clearly costing him. "But I heard you. Your voice. You sounded..." He paused, searching for the word. "Sad."
Candace's throat bobbed. Tears gathered, her eyes darting between Sebastian and the door like a trapped animal calculating escape routes.
"I should go," she blurted, already stepping backward. "I don't want to intrude—"
"You're not intruding," my mother said gently.
But Candace was already retreating, her grin too bright, too brittle. "No, really. I've been here all day and you guys haven't seen him awake yet. This is your moment."
She grabbed her purse from the chair.
"Candace—" I started.
"Tell Emma I'll call her later." One pause. One last look at Sebastian. "I'm glad you're okay."
The door clicked shut behind her.
The room went quiet.
Sebastian stared at the door. His head fell back against the pillow, exhaustion carved into every line of his face.
"What did I say?" he asked.
My mother smoothed the blanket over his chest, her touch feather-light. "Nothing, sweetheart. She's just overwhelmed. It's been a long day for everyone."
But Sebastian's brow creased, a shadow passing behind his eyes.
"She was crying. I remember that. She was crying and talking about..." He trailed off, face scrunching with the effort of recall. "Someone who hurt her. A man."
Garrett.
