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“I’ll be back later.” He winks, then he’s gone.

My father walks straight over, kisses the top of my head, and checks me over before he steps back so my mother can take his place.

“How are you affording this place?” Her eyes scan the private room I am in. I didn’t realize I was in a private hospital until after the pain medication took full effect and my hand was stitched.

“Keir is paying for it,” I tell her.

“Of course, he is.” She shakes her head and grabs my arm, careful not to hurt me, as she looks at it. “How did it happen? All he bothered to tell us was that there was an accident and you’re okay.”

“I am okay,” I assure her.

“You aren’t.” She nods to my hand. “Obviously.” She shakes her head again. “If you weren’t an adult, I’d haul your ass into the back of that camper van we have and take you away from him.”

She didn’t say here.

Just him.

“I’ll go and get us some coffee. Just relax.” My father kisses the top of my mother’s head before he walks out, leaving my mother and me alone. She has highs and lows, and sometimes, you wouldn’t even know she has bipolar. My father is a champ with it all, though. He always knows what to do. How to help her. How to guide her through the highs and lows that come from such a debilitating disease. She has had lots of help over the years, though. And she seems stable most of the time with the drugs, medical interventions, and regular psychiatrist visits.

“I was with a man like him once,” my mother confesses, sitting next to me. “He consumed me.” She smiles. “I thought I would never find another man like him, and I guess I was right, I never really did. But I’m glad because it led me to your father.” She pauses, then looks me in the eye. “It’s in our nature to be attracted to the one we can’t obtain, the one just out of our reach, yet somehow always in our circle. He’s going to stay in your circle until you remove him. And let me tell you something, you want to remove him. A man like that won’t just remove you, he’ll remove everything about you. You will be nothing, he will consume you.”

“It’s nothing serious,” I tell her.

She shakes her head.

“Lies. But that’s okay. If that helps you sleep at night. Now, tell me the real reason you are lying in this bed with your hand wrapped and security at the door.” I look past her to the door. “Oh, they’re gone now, but I bet not for long.” She sighs, standing. “The mafia, Sailor, really?”

“We’ve had this discussion.”

She reaches for my hand and examines it.

“Sure looks like someone stabbed you.” Her eyes, the same color as my own, lock on to mine. “Care to tell me different?”

“No,” I say, pulling my hand free.

“Figured as much.” She huffs, sitting back down. “It’s okay, I can work it out in my head. You stabbed yourself because he told you he can’t love you.” Her hand falls to her heart. “Or … better yet. He has a wife, and she stabbed you.” I bite the inside of my cheek at her words, and her eyes go wider. “Wow, okay, that was a joke. But, fuck, Sailor … she stabbed you? He has a wife?”

“No and no.”

The door opens again, and my father comes in holding three coffee cups. My mother stands to take hers and sits back down.

“You are coming with us.”

I look at the door to make sure it’s shut. “I actually want to go back home,” I tell them.

“We sold the place so we could travel,” my father says. “But Benny lives there now. He’s old. Needs help with things. I’m sure he would let you rent your old room from him.” Benny is my father’s brother. They aren’t close but talk every now and then.

“Really?” I ask.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. It’s where I met Dillan. When I lived a different life.

“Just don’t go back to who you used to be. You’ve come so far, apart from this hiccup, that is,” my mother can’t help but add, and I smile at her.

My parents spend the rest of the day with me. We eat lunch, they tell me about their trip, and my father rings Benny, who sounds ecstatic to have someone else live with him.

Plus, it’s basically rent-free. And with the savings I have from working three jobs, I should be fine for a while.

“You can leave now,” my mother says to Keir as he walks back into the room later that day, clean and dressed in a new suit. He looks good. I’m jealous. I look like a piece of shit. My hair hasn’t been brushed, and I can feel my face starting to bruise and swell, yet here he is, looking like he just walked off a mafia movie set, and he’s playing the lead role.

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