After the meeting with Adrian, I stood outside the bar for a while, minutes after he left. For a second I didn’t know what to do or where to go until I decided to go to the hospital. I haven’t been to see Sierra since the day of her breakdown.
By the time I get to the hospital, the weight of everything that happened for the past few days has settled heavily deep into my bones. The conversation with Adrian still lingers in my mind, along with the postmortem details and the dead end we hit at the house. Every step I take toward Sierra’s room feels harder than the last, like I’m walking toward something I’m not ready to face.
I stop just outside her door. My hand lifts, resting against the handle, my fingers curling around it as if all I have to do is push it open and step inside. It should be simple. It should be the easiest thing in the world to walk in and see her. But I can’t.
I stand there longer than I should, staring at the door like it’s something foreign, something unfamiliar. On the other side of it is Sierra, broken in ways I’ve never seen before, and I know that the moment I walk in, I’ll have to face what I’ve done. I’ll have to stand there knowing that she’s in that state because I failed to protect both her and our child.
My grip tightens on the handle, and for a second, I almost push it open, but I stop, and then I let go.
Stepping back feels like the only thing I can do, even though it makes something inside me twist with something that feels too close to cowardice. I don’t give myself time to think about it. I turn and walk away before I can change my mind.
I don’t belong in that room until I have something to give her and until I have our daughter back.
I walk back outside, get into my car and leave after giving the hospital one last look.
The drive home is quiet, the kind of silence that presses in from all sides. By the time I step into the house, I already know what I’m walking into. The twins are in the living room, their laughter echoing faintly as they play, but the moment they see me, everything else fades into the background.
“Daddy!” Nova calls, dropping what she’s holding as she runs toward me.
Nolan follows close behind, his expression hopeful in a way that makes something in my chest tighten.
“Did you find her?” he asks immediately.
I crouch down in front of them, forcing my voice to stay steady even as the truth settles heavily on my tongue.
“No,” I say quietly. “Not yet.”
The disappointment that crosses their faces is instant, raw in a way that makes it impossible to look away.
“What about Aunt Brook?” Nolan asks suddenly.
Nova turns to him sharply, “I thought we agreed not to call her aunt?”
There is anger laced into her voice, and her brows are pulled down in a frown.
"Sorry," Nolan replies, “I forgot.”
“Next time don’t forget," she snaps. “We don’t have an aunty as evil as her.”
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