Page 55 of Unleashed By Eden

“Really?” I say, the end of the word pitching up into a squeak.

“Yup.” He sounds smug. “Figured if she turns out half as strong as her aunt, she’ll be set for life.”

I stare at a blurred crowd shot and see nothing. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t go mushy on me now,” he warns.

I snort. “No promises.”

There’s a rustle, the sound of him shifting the phone, and a soft wail in the background.

“Everything good with you?” he asks.

“All good.” I click over the backstage photos, Carter laughing at something Kai said, head tipped back, eyes crinkled. I clear my throat. “Listen, I know you’re on leave and busy with . . . Indigo.” I try her name for the first time, loving how it sounds. “But I wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Shoot. Anything.”

I blow out a breath down my nose. “Carter is going to call you later,” I say. “And he’s going to tell you something. I need you not to freak out. Okay?”

“Vi . . .” he cautions, and his whole tone flips. The soft new-dad glow drops; Pulse’s manager shows up instead. “What the fuck is going on?”

I tilt my head back against the couch and stare at the ceiling. “He thinks his liver is failing,” I state plainly. “He’s been burying his head in the sand for a while. When he calls, I need you not to lose your shit at him. I already did that.”

“What?!” The word cracks across the speaker. “Why the hell hasn’t he said anything?”

I wince and lower the volume on the phone. I can hear Anne’s voice in the background.

“Shit. Sorry,” he mutters, muffling the receiver. “Hang on.”

There’s movement, footsteps, the sound of a door closing. When he comes back, his voice is lower.

“Okay,” he says. “Explain.”

“I don’t know why he didn’t tell you. Pride, maybe? Stubbornness. Terror. Take your pick. I think the years of partying finally caught up with him, and he’s pissed at himself for turning into Maeve.”

He exhales sharply. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

I lean my elbows on my knees, camera hanging from my hands.

“I wanted to give you a heads-up before he calls,” I continue. “I want you to handle this better than I did. I didn’t react well. Instead of sympathy, I basically called him an idiot and a child. I’m thinking it’ll work better if you come at it from a different angle. With a little more . . . poise.” I scrunch my nose. “Less theatrical homicide.”

He chuckles. “I bet you ripped him a new one.”

“Yup.” I pick at my nail polish with my thumb. “Not my finest moment. I’m working on it.”

“I know you are.”

We sit in a small pocket of silence.

“Can you arrange a gap in his schedule to see a doctor?”

“Absolutely,” he says without hesitation. “Who else knows about this? We need to keep a tight ship. Press can’t catch wind of it.”

“No one,” I respond. “Not even Chris.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”