Page 79 of Resist

Maybe.

Glancing at the bed, she was relieved to see at least Mick was finally sleeping. When she’d returned home last night, she’d found him on the floor, wheezing for breath, his chest making a disturbing crackling sound. She knew he was in bad shape when she’d called 9-1-1 and he didn’t protest. Of course, he’d been out of it, delirious with pain and struggling to breathe.

They’d done a series of tests upon their arrival before setting him up in this room in ICU. An hour earlier, the doctor had pulled her into the hallway to tell her all they could do at this point was make him as comfortable as possible. He’d prescribed a morphine drip and offered her a sympathetic smile when she’d asked how long Mick had.

“It could be days, or it could be hours,” the doctor had replied.

He was dying.

Her dad was dying.

She’d known this day was coming for the past year, but now that it was here, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel.

Ainsley had never been close to her father, thanks to a lifetime of abuse and neglect. He’d made it his life’s mission to make sure his kids knew he’d never wanted them, and he resented Mom for dumping them on him. She’d spent the last hour sitting next to him, trying to recall some good memories. Sadly, they were few and far between.

There was the one year he’d remembered her birthday. Things had been going well at the tavern and in a burst of generosity, he’d bought her a birthday cake from the grocery store. She was turning nine, and she could still recall how sweet and delicious that cake was. Ainsley had intended to savor it, only allowing herself a small piece each day so she could make it last.

In the end, she’d only gotten that one piece, because Eli had swiped it from the refrigerator, he and his friends devouring it, despite her protests.

Then there was the night Mick had come home and found her in her room, crying. She’d discovered Tiger’s cheating, and the two of them had just broken up. She’d been devastated and certain she’d never fall in love again. Mick had patted her on the shoulder and told her there were more fish in the sea. It hadn’t been much, but that comforting touch and those words—the nicest he’d ever said to her—had bolstered her.

She thought there must have been other times he was kind, but she was struggling to remember them. Her tired brain—pissed off due to the lack of sleep—taunted her, telling her there were no more good memories.

“Everything okay in here?” a nurse asked softly, walking in and checking on Mick.

Ainsley nodded, and the nurse gave her a soft smile, looking at her as if she would fall apart in the face of losing her dad.

The horrible truth was, her initial emotion when the doctor told her Mick was dying had been relief.

That made her feel like a terrible person, which was the reason why she was sitting here by his bed at five in the morning, desperate to remember something—fuckinganything—good.

A grunt from the bed captured her attention. Mick was awake and scowling at her.

He pulled the oxygen mask from his mouth. “What are you doing here?” he asked in a breathless whisper.

“Sitting with you.”

His expression grew even darker. “Get out.”

“Mick,” she started, wondering if she should let him know just how dire his situation was. “The doctor said?—”

“I’m dying,” he said on a raspy gasp. “I want to do it alone. Get the fuck out.” Mick put the mask back over his mouth and turned his head, letting her know she was dismissed.

This man had spent a lifetime hurting her, with fists and words, but this…

Just when she thought he couldn’t hurt her any more, he found a way.

He always found a way.

Ainsley swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, trying to force it down. Trying to force it all down—the pain, the guilt, the sorrow, the resentment.

She’d hoped that at the end, they would find peace, but it looked like she was going to have to figure that out for herself.

She rose from the chair and walked to the door. Every fiber of her being told her to just keep walking, but when she reached the threshold, she couldn’t help but turn to take one last look.

“Goodbye, Dad.”

If he heard her, he gave no indication, his gaze locked on the opposite wall. She waited for a few seconds, but in the end, she had no choice but to walk away.

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