Harlan straightened, cleared his throat, and stroked Coral's hair. "Go on, butterfly. You be brave for us. I am going to get your favourite pancakes with whipped cream and maple syrup ready for ya, okay?" said Harlan as he nodded for Fern to go without him. No one asked Connor if he wanted to go.
Coral nodded again, the same solemn nod with her wonky hair bun, her strawberry lip balm, and Mulan pyjamas. She then gave Connor a wave before she turned back to the pretty nurse with a funny accent.
Fern followed them with a last look at the room while Harlan brought up the flank.
They chatted lightly about the pictures Coral had drawn, about her grandpa's silly fisherman hat, about how brave she was.
Then the theatre doors opened.
"Mum can come in," the nurse reminded gently.
Harlan kissed Coral's forehead again, stepped back, and the doors closed quietly behind the little group.
The corridor fell silent, and Harlan turned. His feet ate up the distance to the ward.
His boots scraped once on the floor as he cleared the door of the hospital cubicle before he lunged.
His fist met Connor's gut with a heavy, controlled thud. Connor folded with a sharp exhale, knees nearly hitting the floor. He clutched his abdomen, breath torn from him, but didn't raise a hand to defend himself, didn't even curse.
Harlan towered over him.
"You have no idea," he growled, "how badly I want to smash your pretty face in. I don't want my daughter or my granddaughter."
Connor wiped his mouth and nodded. "I'm a piece of shit," he said, his voice hoarse. "Yeah," Harlan said flatly. "Yes, you are. But my granddaughter still loves you. And that"—he jabbed a finger at Connor's chest—"is the only reason you’re still breathing."
Connor looked utterly broken, shoulders slumped, eyes shining with unshed tears. Eyes just like Coral's.
He couldn't muster a word.
Harlan leaned close, voice low and lethal. "Don't forget that I drive a truck for a living, son. There are a lot of open places in this country where bodies don't get found."
Connor nodded again, pale. "I know."
Harlan's fury simmered hotter. "Fern does not want you anymore. You, your family, and that sea witch you brought into her life? You've put my child through hell. Do you remember that talk we had when Fern first brought you home?"
Connor swallowed hard.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
Connor lifted his gaze, eyes bloodshot, voice nothing more than a rasp. "I'm sorry. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to fix what I tore apart. Just... just give me a chance to tell you everything. It's not what you think."
Harlan stared long and hard, then punched him once more.
Connor staggered but didn't fall.
"That's for Coral." Harlan stepped back, his massive chest rising as his heart sped like a runaway train. "Next time, I won't be so gentle."
Connor nodded, jaw clenched, tears sliding down his face.
Harlan sized him up. "So, talk."
***
Fern walked beside Coral's bed as the porter guided them down the bright corridor, the wheels humming softly over the linoleum. They made a short pit-stop at the massive fish tank, as promised. Coral's tiny fingers clutched Fern's sleeve as they turned into the anaesthesia room.
Fern kept her voice calm. "I'm right here, baby."
Inside, the nurse peeled away the shiny "plastic wrap" covering the ‘magic’ numbing cream spread over Coral's left forearm. The skin underneath looked pale and slightly puckered.
