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A steady beeping sound came from my right. And the same soft touch that brushed my cheek now squeezed my hand. “Turn off one of those light switches, Louis,” the voice said.

Nana?

I opened my eyes again, and this time, two familiar figures blurred into focus, like heat waves on a paved road in the dead of summer.

“Wh-where am I…?” Jagged spikes caught my voice. Bandages covered my left arm above my elbow.

“You’re at the hospital, dear.” Nana leaned closer to me and patted my hand. “You’ve been out of it for almost twelve hours. They took you off oxygen just a couple hours ago.”

Granddad rubbed my shoulder. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“Your mother is here too.” Nana kissed my forehead. “She got in early this morning but stepped out to take a phone call.”

Granddad poured water into a small, pink cup and handed it to me. I winced as the IV tugged on my skin but gulped the entire cup down. Water never tasted so good.

“What about Eliza?” I tried sitting up. Damn, my chest hurt. “Is she okay?”

“She’s okay.” Nana gave her famous warning glare to Granddad before speaking to me again. “Just a bad scratch on her cheek.”

Thank God.

“And Ben?” I asked. I had found him collapsed near the stage with singed clothes and tried to drag him out, but there was too much smoke. I must’ve passed out because the next thing I saw was a fireman standing over me. And then I must’ve blacked out again.

Granddad and Nana exchanged another look. She smoothed the thin, itchy blanket by my leg. “He’s in the ICU. The police have been outside his room for the last couple of hours—”

“The police?” Shit, Ben. What the hell did you do?

Nana cleared her throat. “We believe they’ll charge him with fourth-degree arson.”

“Basically, it means he was acting reckless when he set fire to the Lyric,” Granddad added. “But judging by the damage to the building…”

“How bad was it?” Based on their faces, though, I already knew the answer.

“Total loss, honey.” Nana squeezed my leg.

I sank back into my pillow. “Total loss”? That theater had been around for decades. Had helped so many families. And what about Eliza’s grandmother? She had passed away years ago, but the tradition she’d been a part of had still stood. Her legacy had lived on.

Till now…

“Eliza Crowley sat outside your room for hours before finally going home,” Granddad said, his voice tense.

She was here?

“Got something to tell us, Reed?”

“It’s a long story,” I said.

Granddad crossed his arms.

I sighed. “We were together for a little while, but now we’re not.” The deep ache in my heart after leaving her in the treehouse almost a week ago resurfaced. And everything suddenly felt very cold. “It’s…it’s over, Granddad.”

He huffed. “It should’ve never begun.”

Yeah, I tried to tell myself the same thing. Didn’t work.

Nana hushed him and moved around the bed to pour me another glass of water. “A girl sits outside your room for hours, cries as her father practically has to drag her out of here…” She handed me the cup. “Doesn’t sound like something that’s over to me.”

Granddad mumbled under his breath and moved toward the window. “Honestly, Joyce, how can you encourage—”