Page 56 of The Hero + Vegas = No Regrets

I glance around and behind me. “No one else is here?”

“They’re on their way,” Mom says. “I didn’t have contact details before today. Once your father could have visitors, Noah called… Rita.”

I rest my head on her shoulder. “Mom.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry about me. Worry about you. And your dad. In that order.”

“I figure I can hate him all I want when he’s better,” Oliver says, stuffing the empty chips bag into the trash and wiping his hands down his jeans. “Shall we all go in?”

“You two go,” Mom says. “I’m okay out here.”

My heart pinches at the shift in our family dynamic. But maybe there hasn’t been a shift for my mom. Her situation hasn’t really changed—she’s been coping with this for more than two decades. She’s at the hospital for us. She’s stayed in a broken marriage for us. What sacrifices she’s made. I wonder if she regrets any of them.

“I love you so much, Mom.”

Her voice catches. “I love you too, Sophia.”

It’s like I’m fighting against gravity as I walk toward my dad’s room, like I’m wading through mud or something. Oliver goes first.

“Brought you a visitor,” he says, holding the door open for me.

“Sophia! I thought you were in New York.” Dad looks so damn pleased to see me, it makes me happy and sad at the same time. Why can’t we just rewind to a time when he could make different decisions? He couldnothave an affair,notget her pregnant,nottell a thousand lies to his wife and kids. Why can’t he love me the way I thought he did?

Noah stands and pulls me in for a hug. His embrace is so much more thanI’m pleased you’re here. It’sthank you for coming, our dad’s sick, our family’s falling apart, I love you. Long seconds tick by in the longest hug I’ve ever shared with my brother.

I blink back tears as Noah releases me and stuff my hands in my coat pockets. “How are you feeling?” I know my words sound cold, but it’s all I can manage.

“Better, much better. They’re keeping me in a couple of days, but just as a precaution.”

I don’t move to hug him and he doesn’t ask for one. “You need to stop with the bacon,” I say.

He nods. “I know, I know. I have a thousand pamphlets telling me the same thing.” He nods to his bedside table. “Noah picked them up for me.”

“You need to read them,” I say. “Maybe get a Peloton or something.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice quieter than usual. “There are a lot of things I need to start doing.” Silence echoes in the room. I stare at my shoes. I’m so angry with him, but I’m so pleased he’s okay. “I really appreciate you being here,” he finally says. “I know there’s a lot we need to talk about.” He can barely finish his last sentence.

“You need to rest,” Oliver says, sitting in the chair beside the bed. “Don’t stress out about anything.”

I pull in a breath. That’s easier said than done. Dad has split apart his family—has been splitting us apart for twenty-five years. “We can talk when you’re better,” I say.

Dad catches Oliver’s and Noah’s eyes and nods at the door. They both get up and leave. I don’t stop them. I don’t really want to be alone with my dad, but at the same time, I want to hear what he has to say. I desperately want there to be something he can say to stop this anger bubbling inside of me. I need that from him.

I don’t move. I stand still at the bottom of his bed.

“I have a lot of regrets,” he says, “but being your dad isn’t one of them.”

“Is that why you sent Noah and Oliver out? You don’t want them to hear I’m the only one you don’t regret?” It’s meant to be a joke, but it doesn’t land. They’re the words of innocent, fourteen-year-old me, who’d sit on the couch with Dad while he watched the game, telling him everything I knew about Taylor Swift. Today it seems like I’ve lost my sense of humor, and no wonder.

“We’ll always be a family,” Dad says.

I don’t want him to see me cry, and I don’t want to argue with him, but that’s bullshit. We were never a family. At least, we’ve never been the family I thought we were.

I don’t respond.

“I’m sorry?—”

“Let’s do this another time,” I say, turning to leave. “You need to rest.”

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