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Mason looks at me and frowns as if it’s obvious who the others are. “The gang.”
Scarlet lets him past and then follows him out of the room. She returns a moment later with a tray.
My eyes track her as she rounds my bed and sets the things down on the side.
She checks the machine set back against the wall, then reaches for a control that’s attached to the trolley. “You know how one of these works?”
I tip my chin up, continuing to watch her.
She carefully reaches for my hand, her eyes focused on the cannula attached to my fist as she inspects it.
“Is this hurting you at all?”
I flex my fingers around hers and look down at her hand under mine, noticing the cuts and scrapes on my knuckles and the way my heart roars to life in my chest. “Not even a little bit.”
She lifts her eyes to mine, and I’m pretty sure the world stops spinning.
“You were on your way to the estate,” she says quietly, dropping my hand.
I steady myself and tell her, “I read your letter.”
Her eyes fix on me, as if staring through me might keep the tears forming in her eyes from falling.
“Why aren’t you angry at me, Scarlet?”
Sadness sweeps over her face, and she dips her head. “I had a long time to be angry.” She chances a look up at me. “I should have just told you. If I thought something like this would’ve happened—”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“I was being stubborn. You deserved to know the moment I saw you that first day. I don’t know why I didn’t say it… I guess I couldn’t.”
“This isn’t on you,” I repeat.
She nods, and I see the flash of anger and frustration still lurking in her eyes. “I know.”
I swallow, not knowing how or what or if I should even ask. I don’t know how this goes. I don’t know how to—
“She’s beautiful,” Scarlet says, a sad smile showing through her tears. “She’s beautiful, and she can’t wait to meet you.”
My brow screws up tightly, my body going rigid as I tilt my neck back, looking to the ceiling.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffs.
I shake my head, unable to comprehend her words as a tear falls down my face.
“She knows exactly who you are.”
I can’t do this.
I can’t listen to this.
“I made sure she knew.”
“Scar.”
“I know,” she whispers. “I know this is hard.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I lift my head, finding her face as distraught as I feel. “I have a daughter?” I rasp.
