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I couldn’t have been back in Abby’s room for more than twenty minutes. If that. Remembering my daughter, sleeping peacefully in a hospital bed, has a momentary rush of guilt rising to the surface.
“She’s okay,” I say out loud. “Mel’s with her. She’s sleeping. There’s nothing I can do for her.” I nod, sweeping my gaze over the sidewalks stretched out on either side of the road. “Come on, Sky. Where are you?”
I try not to beat myself up for leaving him like that in the waiting room, butfuck,if I don’t feel like a piece of shit right now. He must’ve been so confused. I completely forgot about the fact Mel would immediately pick up on who he is once he said his name.
But I wasn’t thinking.
I wasn’t fucking thinking.
He has to understand…
I wince, because something tells me that’s not the problem. I know he’d never expect me to drop everything for him, my daughter especially.
If anything, that’s probably why he left—because he didn’t want me to have to face that choice when he realized how overwhelmed he was getting.
Well, too bad sweetheart. I choose both of you.
And I’m never letting you out of my sight again.
CHAPTERFORTY-FOUR
NOLAN
Ibang my fist on the door, muttering under my breath, “Come on, come on, come—”
It flies open to reveal Micah glaring at me. “What did you do?”
“Is he here?” I growl out, making to push past him, when a hand slams against my chest, keeping me back.
My eyes widen.
“Depends. What did you do?”
I glare back at him, my chest heaving.
Fucking Christ I don’t need this shit right now.
Before I can deck him and shove my way through, I quickly remind myself he’s just protecting Skyler. If he knew what really happened, I sincerely doubt he’d be giving me a hard time right now.
“Micah,” I say carefully, not breaking his gaze. “It’s not what you think.”
He arches a disbelieving brow, and I feel my throat grow thick, making swallowing impossible. All I can do is shake my head, my eyes burning.
“Please,” I utter brokenly. “He needs me.”
He stares at me for a moment longer, and I’m not sure what he sees reflected back, but whatever it is has him frowning in concern and easing back, holding the door open to let me in.
“He’s in his room,” he says.
Zelda’s sitting on the couch, eyes wide, pillow tucked against her chest. “What’s going on?”
I shake my head, ignoring her as I head in the direction Micah points. “Last room on the right.”
The floor creaks in several spots under my heavy, quick strides. From the living room, the TV hums with soft chatter. Or maybe that’s Micah and Zelda talking. I don’t know, or care. Either way it’s fucking concerning, because not a single sound can be heard from behind the door I stop at.
My hand grips the doorknob, and I hesitate before turning it. Knocking softly, I say just loud enough for him, I hope, to hear me. “Sweetheart, it’s me. Can I come in?”
Nothing.
