Page 142 of Wonderstruck

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she steppedcloser, her free hand resting on my arm. “Whatever you need to,” she said finally.

I exhaled shakily, my shoulders sagging under theweight of everything I couldn’t say.

Behind me, Daisy spoke for the first time since we’darrived. Her voice small, trembling. “Is he going to wake up?”

Grandpa turned to her, his face softening. “He’s stable, Daisy. That’s all we know right now.”

Shenodded, but the tears kept falling. Rory brokeaway from me and went to her, pulling her into a hug and whispering something I couldn’t hear.

I stayed where I was, staring at the man in the bed. The man who was supposedto be our father. The man I couldn't see any resemblance in. The man who had spent years making us feel like we weren’t enough.

And yet, here we were.

I didn’t know if I was angry, sad, or guilty. MaybeI was all of it. Maybe it didn’t matter. Or maybe I was trying to say I was anything other than relieved because he didn’t deserve to know we still cared about him after all the shit he’s put us through.

“I’ll be outside,” I muttered, turning on my heelbefore anyone could stop me. The hallway air felt colder, and heavier, but at least it wasn’t suffocating.

I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes and lettingthe distant hum of the hospital drown out everything else. I didn’t know what came next, but I finally knew one thing for certain.

I wouldneverbecome that man.

chapter thirty nine

i might as well put my trauma to good use

Christmas wasn’t supposed to feel like this.

But then again, maybe this was exactly what Christmas was supposed to feel like. Not the snow-globe perfection sold in shop windows or the glittering highlight reels of other people’s lives — butthis. Family showing up, not because everything was merry and bright, but because someone needed them. Because love doesn’t check the calendar or care about wrapping paper.

Okay, sure — it wasn’t postcard perfect. We weren’t sipping hot chocolate by the fire or unwrapping presents beneath twinkling lights. We were curled in plastic chairs, drifting off to the soft beeping of machines instead of carols. But the spirit was still here, quietly pulsing beneath the fluorescent lights. In the way we held hands. In the way no one left, even when there was nothing left to say. In the way we chose to be together, even likethis.

Because maybe that’s what Christmas really is — not the setting, but the staying.

That was where my mind was slipping to before a rattling tray of medical supplies sounded in the hallway, stealing away any and all of the sleep that was about to grab me.

I was sitting in the chair closest to the hospital bed Jason Rhodes had been lying in for two days now, myknees pulled to my chest, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. The beeping monitor was the only sound in the room, filling the silence like a metronome ticking off the seconds of uncertainty.

Jack had gone back to the ranch for a fresh changeof clothes. Daisy, sweet as ever, had disappeared to the children’s ward to sing Christmas carols, something she did every year according to Finn.

Finn.

His name was the breeze I needed right now.

He’d fallen asleep beside me, his head leaningagainst my shoulder, his breathslow and even. He hadn’t let himself rest since we got here, and I was grateful for this quiet moment, even if it wasn’t the peace he deserved.

My heart ached for him as I stole a glance. I wanted to help, to fixeverything, but this? I didn’t know how. I’d known loss—God, had I known loss—but this was different. Finn’s dad wasn’t lost in the way mine had been. He was here, but not.

A hollow shell of a man, trapped in grief.

Finn stirred against me, his eyes fluttering open. Heblinked a few times, disoriented, before sitting up and rubbing his face.

“Hey," I ran my fingers through his hair, dipping my eyes to his. "You okay?”

Henodded, but his expression said otherwise, sinking thesecond I watched him remember where he was. He shuffled again, re-tousling his blonde strands that seemed duller in here somehow, before sighing. “I think I need some air.”

Before I could say anything else, he was on hisfeet, pulling his coat off the back of the chair and slipping out the door.

My entire body sighed as I leant back in my chair. He’d barely spoken to any of us since arriving here, which is why I knew he wasn’t pushing me away.

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