Page 82 of The Lightkeeper

“I-I forgot my sweater in your room, so I went back, grabbed my sweater, but stopped because I overheard your doctor and a nurse or PA talking right outside the door. They said you’d lost too much blood. That even with the transfusions, it was so risky, but because of the burns, they had to do it before things got worse.”

Her head shook as she spoke, and I understood. Her body didn’t want to go back to the memory because it was too painful.

“I remember the nurse asked ‘What did you tell him?’She meant Jamie. The doctor said something, but I must’ve moved because he saw me through the window to the room. He looked at me. Looked at the nurse. And then told her to prep you.” Frankie’s voice turned hollow. “I saw through her fake smile when she came into the room. I saw the pain in her eyes. She said I needed to leave so they could do what they needed to do, and I told her I wasn’t leaving until she told me what the doctor said.”

“And?”

“The doctor told Jamie you had a less-than-ten percent chance of surviving.”

My teeth ground together. I’d heard enough comments during my recovery—miraclesand all that—to know the odds hadn’t been good. But for someone to tell my sister that when she was only seventeen years old? Granted, seventeen-year-old Frankie was just as stubborn as twenty-seven-year-old Frankie.

“I ran to the bed—to your side—and I begged you, Kit,” she cried. “I begged you to live. I told that we needed you—that I needed you, and I sobbed until the nurse had to have Jamie come back and carry me away.”

“Frankie…”

“When they told us you made it through, that same nurse approached me. She pulled me to the side and told me that it had to be because you’d heard me—that somehow you heard how much we needed you, knowing that was the only way someone in your condition would’ve survived.”

My jaw locked, wishing there was something to say but there wasn’t. Could I hear Frankie screaming for me? Begging for me to live?Yeah, I could. With perfect fucking clarity. But did I remember it, or was I just able to imagine it? I had no idea. I had no other memory of that time. Yet, I felt her story in the very marrow of my bones. As though there were parts of my body that could still remember even if my brain couldn’t.

“You came back, and I know it was because I asked—because I begged you,” she sobbed harder. “It’s my fault. I know it would’ve been easier and less painful and more peaceful for you to just… let go?—”

“Frankie—” My eyes burned with my own tears, watching her break down.

“But you fought for me because I told you I needed you. Because I begged you to live.” Her entire body shook with the force of her cries.

“Jesus, Frankie.” I hauled her against me. “Of course, I did. Of course, I fought for you. I’ll always fightfor you.”

Her head swiveled against my chest, and she fought my hold, her small fist banging against my chest as she pushed back, tears streaming down her face. “That’s the point,” she charged tremulously, and I didn’t understand her ripple of anger. “You will always fight for us. Fight the odds. Fight the pain. You’ll sacrifice to give us whatever we need—whatever you think we need—and that’s why you’re our hero.”

My throat felt thick—almost too thick to breathe.

“But for once, Kit… for just once, I wish you’d give the rest of us a chance to be yours. Your hero,” she choked on the last.“I wish you’d give us the chance—the choice to fight for you.”

Fight for me.The idea stopped me—stunned me. My mouth opened, but there was nothing to say—nothing to do except draw her back in for a tight hug and let her unload the rest of her tears into my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I rasped when her shaking started to subside.

“She loves you,” Frankie added, her voice softer now. “She would’ve fought for you.”

The band around my chest clamped another degree tighter.

“She needed to go back to her dad—her life,” I murmured softly and drew back to look Frankie in the eyes. “Just like I do.”

I wiped her tears and tried not to think about when I’d done the same for Aurora.

“You were happy, Kit,” she said so quietly that I wished I wouldn’t have heard her. “You were finally happy.”

“And I’ll be happy again,” I risked promising her—promising myself—with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.“Can you help me finish packing these?”

Her head gave a little nod, and I guided her over to the desk so she could pack up Aurora’s remaining textbooks and notebooks.

“What are you going to do?” she asked when we’d finished.

“Take these to the post office.” I lifted the first box—the heaviest—into my arms and noddedto the door.

“That’s not…” She sighed and opened it. “What I meant.”

I could’ve walked through without saying anything else—without answering because God knows, I didn’t have much of an answer to give.

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