Page 113 of Fool Me

“If you’re here, I’m here.”

The door creaks open before she can say anything else, and her dad rolls in. He looks like he hasn’t slept either—gray hoodie rumpled, eyes rimmed red—but his gaze goes straight to Harlowe. He was here last night too, arriving as I kicked everyone else out and staying while the police spoke to Harlowe.

“You scared the hell out of me, kid,” he says, voice rough.

“I know.” She tries to sit up and winces. “Sorry, Dad.”

I scoot the chair back so he can park his wheelchair right up next to her bed and take my place at her side. He lays a hand on her leg.

“I don’t know what I would have—I’m just glad you’re okay.”

She nods. There’s something sacred in the space between them. They both know this fear—of losing the other.

There’s a soft knock in a rhythm I instantly recognize.

My parents.

Mom’s got a bouquet from Peaks & Petal. My dad’s hands are in his pockets. They linger back, not as sure as James—like they might be intruding.

Harlowe waves them in, shifting with a grimace.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom says softly. “We’re so glad you’re all right.”

Harlowe nods politely, but she’s watching me. I give her hand another squeeze.

Everyone keeps saying she’s okay, but she’s got a concussion, bruised ribs, a sprained wrist, stitches in her hairline and on her shoulder.

Mom’s gaze drifts to me. “I’m not sure where to start or what to say. I don’t want to mess this up, but I owe all three of you an apology.” She includes James in that statement.

“We’ve done a lot of thinking,” my dad starts. “A lot of . . . ignoring, too—over the years. We didn’t see the full picture. Or maybe we didn’t want to.”

Mom swallows. “We’re sorry. For all of it. We know we played a role—enabled things we shouldn’t have. Maybe if we hadn’t let so much slide?—”

They don’t mention Canyon by name, but they don’t have to. It’s the first time I’ve seen them really acknowledge the wreckage, and it matters.

“I was so afraid to lose him, but I never thought protecting him could put you in danger. I should have done more. There’s no excuse, and it might be too late, but I won’t do it anymore. He needs help and I hope he gets it because he’s not okay.”

James backs away from the bed, turning his chair toward my mom and taking her hand. “As parents, we always want to see the best in our kids. If I’d been in your shoes, I’m not sure I would have done much different.”

Tears stream down my mom’s face as she nods weakly.

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. It’s not everything, but it’s something.

They leave soon after. Harlowe shifts beneath the blankets, a little stronger now, and I help her sit up.

That’s when Travis knocks—less hesitant than my parents.

“You awake and decent?” he asks, sticking his head in.

“Come on in, Travis.”

He does a quick assessment of Harlowe and I can see the tension in his shoulders fall after a tense moment. “I thought you could use some good news if you’re up for it?”

“She needs rest,” I say.

At the same time, Harlowe says, “Lay it on me.”

“It’s official. You’re the new Incident Commander.”

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