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Explaining everything helps put my thoughts in order.
It's obvious to me now, what I have to do. "I want to go to San Francisco."
Violet chews on her bottom lip. "I know this hurts, Piper. And it's not fair. But breakups are unilateral decisions. If he wants it to be over, it's over."
"But he doesn't want it to be over," I say.
"Even so. He ended things." Violet's voice is soft, sweet. "I know how you feel, but you need to give him space."
"But what about how you left Ethan? What if he'd never tried to get you back?" I ask.
Violet tilts her head, thinking it over.
"It's not the same," Ethan says. "I forced Vi's hand. She didn't want to leave. It took me a while to figure that out. And she needed that time too. It was good for us."
"Was it?" Violet brow furrows then relaxes. "No, it was. I needed that space."
Okay, that's nice for them. And really, I am happy they're happy. But they don't get it.
"Even if it's over, we're still friends," I say. "Someone needs to be there for Kit."
Mal glances at his phone. "Joel's leaving in a few hours."
"But is Joel going to hold his hand?" I ask.
"You really are as stubborn as your brothers," Violet teases. "I guess it's genetic."
I nod. "If it was Ethan, wouldn't you go?"
"Of course," Violet says.
I look to Ethan. "And if it was her?"
Ethan nods.
Mal looks at me. "You sure? What if you show up and he asks you to leave?"
"Then I'll leave," I say.
"And you'll be okay with that?" he asks.
No, but it's better than doing nothing. It's better than letting my friend take on this burden alone.
I hold Mal's gaze. "I guess I'll have to be okay with that."
Chapter 34
Kit
It's just past three A.M. when I finally get to the hospital. Public transit isn't running this time of night, not that they're of much use for the final third of the airport to suburban hospital journey. My phone is dead. That means no rideshare. Only cabs, and not all of them are willing to go this far out.
Even at this time of night, the emergency room is crowded. There are crying babies, screaming children, and stoic adults staring at each other like all hope is lost.
My father is in a chair in the corner. He looks exactly like he did last time I saw him—must have been the Christmas before last. Same wavy dark hair, same chiseled jaw, same dark eyes. Only difference is he's wearing a suit instead of a sweater.
Anger bubbles in my veins as I move closer. This isn't his fault, not exactly
, but it's not like he's done shit to help Mom.
