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“Oh, get over yourself, Louis,” Nana snapped. “I don’t need to encourage anything. You can’t fight what’s meant to be.”

But if it were meant to be, why does it have to be so damn hard?

Mom appeared in the doorway. I smiled and was about to say hi but stopped.

Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and the hand that held her cell phone trembled at her side.

“Susan?” Nana stood. “Susan, what’s wrong?”

Mom didn’t speak. She stared at me, blinking slowly before stepping into the room and closer to my bed.

“Mom?” I sat up straighter.

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Your father…There’s been an accident.”

No. Please, no. Not now. Not ever.

Nana gasped. Granddad hurried over to the bed and put his arm around her. “What do you mean, ‘an accident’?”

Mom wiped her eyes. “It was an IED. His unit went down in the attack. They…” She swallowed hard. “Not all of them made it.”

“But Dad?” My voice cracked. “What about Dad?”

Mom put her phone on my bed and took my hand. “They’re not sure. They’re still identifying the bod”—she sniffed—“the bodies. Three were taken in for injuries.”

“Well, that settles it, then. He’s one of those three. I’m sure of it,” Granddad said. “Patrick’s strong…strongest person I know. He’ll be fine.” He patted Nana’s shoulder. “He has to be.”

Please.

Please let him be.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Eliza

“And though she be but little, she is fierce.”

—William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

I almost turned around when I reached a red light at the corner of Maple and Main Streets across from the courthouse. It had only been a day since the inferno—to which I’d had a front-row seat—that swallowed my dream. My grandmother’s legacy.

Maybe it was too soon to go back?

Reed was still in the hospital. His nana called my mom to let me know he’d be released tomorrow or the following day. I should’ve been elated at the fact that he was okay, that his family had called mine like it was the most normal thing in the world, and yet guilt hadn’t stopped churning through my stomach. It should’ve been me in that hospital. If I had noticed that spotlight in the booth a few minutes sooner, I would’ve run into him outside of the theater. Not in the hallway, surrounded by smoke.

Someone beeped their horn twice behind me. The light had changed to green. I reluctantly pulled forward and parked in the Methodist church lot. Yellow caution tape blocked the parking for the Lyric. Or what used to be the Lyric.

Lauryn waited for me in front of a line of trees that separated the church property from the theater and gave a half wave as I got out of the Jeep.

“Are you sure you’re okay to be here?” After hugging me tightly, she stared at the cut on my cheek, held together with two butterfly bandages. “Everyone would understand if you didn’t come to this right now.”

“I need to be here. It”—my voice caught in my throat—“it was my home too.”

My grandmother’s.

She nodded and took my hand. “Ready?”

No. “Yes.”