"Okay, everyone, I have to go. Send me the write-up tonight with any questions you need me to answer."
I end the call without waiting for a response. Something in Callum's eyes looks off.
"I have some not-so-great news, Keira," Callum says.
My chest constricts.
"What?" I ask, standing. "What is it?"
"It's about Dad."
My heart drops.
"What about him?" I ask, my body starting to tingle from nerves. "I thought everything was, I mean, he's stable, right?"
Callum shakes his head slowly. "The cancer's spread. It's not contained anymore."
"What?!" My hands brace against the desk. "I thought it was under control."
My breath comes faster. The room feels too small, the air too thick.
Callum's jaw tightens. "We all did. The last treatment, it didn't work the way they hoped."
"No. No, that's not possible. He was, he was doing better. He said he was getting?—"
"He lied, Keira. You know how he is."
I do know. Of course I do.
Darragh Killaney doesn't show weakness, not even to his own children. Especially not to his own children.
"So what now?" My voice sounds raw. "What are they doing?"
Callum takes a breath. "There's a special experimental treatment in Germany. He's going to do it."
"When?"
"Next Thursday."
"Okay. Then we wait. We hope for the best."
Callum shifts. His eyes are darker now. "Keira, the doctors gave him a thirty-five percent chance."
"What the hell does that mean?" I ask as my stomach drops.
"That he won't wake up from the procedure."
"WHAT?!"
"And even if he does," he continues, "there's no guarantee it'll work."
My eyes burn, heat prickling behind them, the telltale sting of tears threatening to spill. But I blink hard, refusing to let them fall.
"So this is why Mom's not returning my calls then," I say.
He nods.
"She shuts down, you know."
