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“No?”
He shifts his gaze to me, knowing I can see right through him. “I don’t know how you do it. After everything you went through with Ave, how you can stand at his bedside and be okay—”
“I’m far from okay.” I snigger. “I’m doing my job by standing at his bedside. It doesn’t mean I forgive him—”
“Mummy!”
I cut myself off as Waverley comes flying toward us on her bike.
“This,” she shouts, waving something above her head.
“Two hands, Ave!” I yell, watching her wheels buckle on the uneven ground.
She reaches us and sets down her bike, coming to stand in front of me. “Can you give this to my dad? It’s my picture.”
I open my mouth, then close it, taking the crumpled card from her hand.
“I know what he looks like, and I thought maybe he’d want to see what I look like, too. Just until we can meet each other properly.”
I stare at the picture, my heart in my mouth as I try to blink back the tears gathering.
“Is it a bad idea? I thought it might make him want to see me faster.”
“I… I…”
“It’s a great idea, Ave,” Charlie reassures her. “He’s going to love it. And you.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so.”
She beams up at him, her small shoulders bunching. “Can we go?”
Charlie gives her a subtle nod, and she rushes me, throwing her arms around my middle. I pick her up and cuddle her extra tight. “You’re so special, Waverley Sullivan. Remember that always, okay?”
She pulls back and climbs from my arms, desperate to get away and onto her bike. Charlie promises to have her back by bedtime—a lie I’ve never dared to police.
It’s not until they’re gone and I’m walking through the door to the house that I notice the words scribbled on the back of the photograph.
“He stole her from me, didn’t he?”
I hear my brother’s voice, but his silhouette is lost in a blur of tears.
“Scar?”
I hold out the picture, letting him see.
To my dad.
My name is Waverley Sullivan. I am seven and a half years old and go to Roseladden Primary School with my cousins. I like writing in my books and swimming the most. I am happy to get to meet you soon.
“Do you think you should give this to him?” Mason asks.
“How can I not?” I take it back and wipe my face. “She asked me to.”
“Is he ready for it? Ready for her?”
“Honestly,” I rasp, forcing the words. “It’s not my concern.”
