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Feels like I’ve got an eighteen-wheeler parked on my chest right now. I’m waiting to hear my sternum crack.

“It’s been years, Dean. We can’t erase all that history.”

“I’m only talking about a break, Mike.”

“A break of yet-to-be-determined length where you might but probably won’t eventually decide whether you can stand to be with me in a way that’s real, all because your kid needed a few stitches.”

“It’s not about the goddamn stitches!” His face reddens when he realizes he’s gotten too loud and then he clamps his lips shut. “It’s about… I don’t know how to do this right now.”

“What does us going back even look like, Dean? Do I move out of the building? Or do you? Am I supposed to go on with life as usual and pretend I don’t know exactly how you taste?”

He only shakes his head, looking miserable.

“You want to go back to the way things were before? Fine. You’re the one in charge. From now on you can handle everything on your own.”

His only answer is the stubborn set of his jaw. I think I see moisture rimming his eyes, but that might be wishful thinking.

Which is when they wheel Ella back in in a wheelchair. She seems pretty okay, in spite of the thick bandage covering her wound. Someone’s given her stickers and a red lollipop.

“Uncle Mike! I got stickers.”

“That’s wonderful, princess.”

“Everything looks good, Mr. Ness. She was a real trooper. The doctor will be here as soon as possible to do the sutures.”

Dean stands up as they park Ella’s bed, pulling to his full height and lifting his chin. “I want a plastic surgeon to stitch her up.”

The nurse smiles patiently. “You said. We’ve already put in the call for you. It’s going to be a bit of a wait, but we’ll send them in as soon as they arrive.”

The way Dean nods, the way his shoulders lower and a small smile comes to his face, this is a huge win for him, in spite of how he’s beating himself up. Probably Googled what to do when your kid gets a cut on their forehead the second they got to the hospital. Dean, who always feels like he’s on the wrong foot, who spends every day afraid he’s not doing right by his kid, asked for the right thing and got the right answer.

I hope he’s proud of himself. I am.

Fuck.

I blink away the tears trying to leak out of me and go over to kiss Ella on the top of her head. “Uncle Mike’s gotta go home, sweetheart, but you’re a brave girl and I’m so proud of you. I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ll see you soon.”

Her forehead wrinkles. “But you just got here.”

“Yeah. You don’t have to leave yet.” Dean gives me a look that for once I’m not sure how to decipher. I’m not sure I want to try.

Is he expecting me to stay here and pretend everything’s fine after he’s said all of those things to me? After he told me I’m a distraction? That’s not happening. I love my niece, and I’d do anything for her. But right now, I don’t have it in me to pretend.

“I’m afraid I do.” I slide around the nurse who’s making notes on a tablet, and toward the door. “You call me if anything changes, Dean.”

I’m afraid of what else might come out of my mouth if I stay. Or how it would come out. The last thing we need is me raising my voice in this place.

Dean looks pained, but he doesn’t ask me to come back.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Dean

“This’ll be good, you’ll see. Jacqueline’s good with kids.” Eve, one of Brennan’s female escorts, walks on the other side of Ella, each of us holding one of her small hands.

The sun is bright today and the downtown sidewalk is full of people. And somehow I’m still out here walking around and breathing, even though I feel like I’m dying inside. It’s only been a few days since Mike and I last talked. I’ve picked up my phone a thousand times, but I’m never sure what to say.

Tell you what though, guilt is damn powerful. Ella getting hurt made me finally relent on getting her hair braided. Her new school’s got a whole dress code—she’ll have to wear a uniform—but thank goodness they didn’t have any restrictions about hair.