The walk to the hospital would be easier sans flip-flops. My feet find every puddle, and honestly, it’s probably for the best. The closer to my destination, the closer my flame is to the surface. The cold, wet gross is the only thing keeping it at bay. I increase the strength of my steps, letting the water splash my calves. I’m a mucky mess by the time I reach the entrance. A hot one, too.

I could’ve made a detour, stopping at home to get a change of clothes, but I didn’t want to justify my early return to my father. Not ready for that dumpster fire quite yet. It doesn’t matter what Fire Daddy said. Genetic connection or not, he’ll only ever be a curiosity. Jeremiah Tierney raised me despite how difficult I made it for him. Not hot news: I made it very, very difficult for him. He’s my only father, the only one worthy of bearing the title.

It’s not my father on my mind as I head to the elevator, ignoring the side-eyes evaluating my disarray. Bright side: the lack of hospital staff means I’ll make it to my mother’s room without anyone stopping me to question my appearance. Most of them know me. I’ve practically grown up here. They brought me treats, read me stories, and entertained me when my father met with various doctors. It was my constant, yet I won’t feel sad telling it goodbye. We’re overdue closure.

I hesitate at her door. Now’s not the time to get cold feet. I mean, technically cold feet are ideal, particularly right now. Thanks to the flip-flops, they’re borderline cool, if not cold. Yeah, I’m postponing the inevitable here. Cut me some slack. I’ve had a long day…life…whatever.

Right, where was I? Oh yes. Mom. Specifically, waking Mom up. I’m confident it’ll work. I’ve already woken her once, though the results were problematic. Those doubts aren’t the reason for my procrastination. Basically, everything I do causes a problem. Compounded problems. My trademark. My delay? That’s one hundred percent due to the blonde bombshell sitting on the other side of the door I’m buzzing around like a fly deserving to be swatted. Tally. What will I tell her about Barry? When she sees me without him, she’ll need answers. Do I have the heart to tell her I left him behind? I’m moderately ashamed of it, actually. What else could I have done? Nothing. Sadly, that doesn’t reduce the size of the shame bird flying into my turbine.

Best get on with it. I straighten my shoulders and push open the door. She’s there as promised, sitting next to the bed leafing through a magazine. I inhale her Narcissus and Sage. Mmm. Just like I remember.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

She surveys me from head to toe. “I can’t leave you alone for two seconds.” Her scan stops at my feet. “Are those your shower shoes?”

A sweet greeting. It’s exactly the kind of hello I needed, chastisement in lieu of warm welcome. She shakes her head and puts the magazine down very carefully on the table by my mother’s bed, picks up her cell phone, texts something, and ignores the vibration dance starting two seconds later.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. If this is the first thing your mother sees, she’ll be scared right back into her coma.”

When she stands from the chair, I fight the urge to run to her and wrap her in my arms. I’ve missed her so much. Registering my intent, she cuts me off at the pass. “Don’t you dare touch me. Whatever that smell is might rub off.”

She ushers me into the bathroom and does a quick cleanup, making me wish for a hair wash. Fresh clothes and sneakers will have to do. A full sweep is a luxury I don’t have time for.

“Is Brody playing fetch?” she asks casually.

I blow out a breath. Here we go. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t know. That’s what an assumption is.” Her tone is off, not nearly as bitey or accusatory as I expected.

“He’s getting him back,” I assure her.

She can put on all the brave faces she wants. She can even attempt to avoid the conversation entirely, but it won’t change that the person she loves is currently in the unstable hands of the Tribunal. What have they done to him? What are they planning to do?

“Why would I care?” She can’t manage an indifferent tone but tries valiantly.

I feel everything she’s feeling, but don’t press the subject. It isn’t my place. Besides, it’s a loaded question, and I need to do my unloading on my mother.

“She’s an exceptional patient. Didn’t move a muscle.”

“Did Dad come by?”

“Not once.”

He’s taking the separation seriously, detaching before the great post-graduation cord pulling ceremony. In a few days, I’ll be a Ceobhránach Cove High School graduate, stepping forward into my future whether I’m ready for it or not. No more delays. At least Dad will have her. He won’t have to say goodbye to us both.

I’m under no disillusion that I can stay in CC. I need to leave the area pronto or make it look like I did. If Brody frees Barry, and my hopes are high that he will, it means packing a light suitcase for running. If I run fast enough, maybe I can keep ahead of the Tribunal, who will undoubtedly come looking for me, aware I won’t choose either of their hot garbage options.

Evacuation without my friends and family in tow will be the tricky part. They can’t come. I can’t keep myself from transitioning if I’m busy worrying about them. The Tribunal doesn’t want them. They want me. They’ll chase me, so my friends and family will be safe. Hopefully, there’s a way to stay a step or twelve ahead of them. Not in flip-flops this time. Those are no good for running.