Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57099 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
The question hit like a sucker punch. I kept my face neutral despite the sting. “Brynn --”
“Did he say something? Is he backing out?” Her voice rose, the monitor beside her bed registering a spike in her heart rate. “Because if he thinks he can just walk away again --”
“Brynn Elizabeth Leahy,” Lavender cut in, her tone sharper than I’d heard her use with our daughter but still gentle. “That’s enough. Knight didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then why were you crying?” Brynn challenged, but uncertainty crept into her voice.
I took a careful step forward. “Your mom’s been carrying one hell of a weight, kid. Sometimes even the strongest people need a minute to break down.”
Brynn’s eyes narrowed as she assessed my words for lies. Finding none, she turned back to Lavender. “Is that true?”
Lavender sank onto the edge of the bed, taking Brynn’s hand between both of hers. “Yes. I was looking at old photos while you were getting your ultrasound. Just… remembering easier times.” She squeezed Brynn’s fingers gently. “Knight found me upset, that’s all. He actually helped me feel better.”
Brynn absorbed this, her gaze flicking between us with that eerie way she had. I now understood why my eyes had always freaked people out even before I got the whites filled in. Because I swear to God, the kid could see straight into a person’s soul.
“Fine,” she said finally, though suspicion still lingered in the set of her jaw. “But I want to see those pictures too.”
“Deal.” Lavender pulled out her phone, the crisis temporarily averted. As she sat beside Brynn, showing her the photos we’d looked at earlier, I moved to the window, giving them space while remaining close enough to hear their soft conversation.
I listened, each anecdote another piece of the puzzle that was my daughter’s life. The science fair projects. The coding club she’d started at her school. The time she’d taken apart the neighbor’s broken router at age nine and fixed it by re-soldering a loose connection. And yes, she’d earned her merit badge by singeing her fingers at least three times before she’d finished. And never gave up. Each story revealed another facet of the remarkable person she’d become.
“What about this one?” Brynn asked, her voice suddenly quieter as she swiped to a new photo.
From my position, I caught a glimpse of Brynn at maybe five or six, holding a crudely made Father’s Day card. Something tightened in my chest.
“I made that for Principal Edwards,” Brynn said, her tone carefully neutral. “For that stupid Father’s Day thing school made us do.”
Lavender’s hand tightened around her phone. “You decided he needed it more than anyone, since he had to be ‘father’ to all the kids at school.”
An uncomfortable silence fell. I kept my gaze fixed on the cityscape beyond the window, giving them the illusion of privacy while my heart threatened to crack wide open.
“He lost his kid,” Brynn said suddenly, the words clearly meant for me to hear. “His son died from cancer in the middle of the school year. That’s why I gave it to him. Because I thought… I thought dads who lost their kids deserved Father’s Day cards more than kids who lost their dads.” She paused. “It made sense when I was six.”
I turned then, finding both of them watching me. “It makes perfect sense,” I said quietly. “Kid logic is sometimes the most logical of all.”
The corners of Brynn’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “The nurse thinks I’m a pain in the ass.”
“Language,” Lavender admonished automatically, though without heat.
“You impressed her,” I corrected. “And she’s not really angry with you. I think she was yanking your chain to get your mind off shit.”
Brynn shrugged, but I caught the hint of pride she couldn’t quite suppress. “I like knowing things. Especially about what’s happening to my body.” Her gaze met mine directly, a challenge maybe. “Did they figure out if this thing’s happening yet?”
“Final tests today,” I answered. “We’ll know soon.”
She nodded once, then turned back to the photos, effectively dismissing me. But something had shifted subtly. The wall between us hadn’t come down, not by a long shot, but maybe, just maybe, she’d installed a small window.
The nurse returned, another staff member in tow -- a doctor this time, from the looks of the white coat. “Miss Leahy,” the nurse announced with theatrical formality, “Dr. Wilson is Dr. Patel’s resident.” She grinned at me and Lavender as if she were getting ready to watch the greatest show on earth. “He would like to discuss your concerns about medication timing.”
Brynn straightened, tablet already in hand, ready for round two. As the debate resumed, Lavender moved to stand beside me, her shoulder brushing against my arm. She had to turn her face into my shoulder more than once as the young resident, who was obviously being taught a lesson by a senior nurse, stumbled over recited explanations he obviously didn’t fully understand.