Page 146 of Masked Sins
“Cat family,” he croaks.
I huff a laugh. “I guess.”
“Pretty girl family.”
His words send fire to something emotional in my brain, and I nod once. “One day.”
I drop the packed lunch onto a chair as I walk into my dad’s hospice room. It’s a little nicer here—not as big as the suite, but there are at least plants and flowers.
A handmade quilt draped over the lower half of his body.
A humidifier going in the corner.
Swallowing, my feet stay planted. My hands curl at my sides, and I stare down at the man who was everything I wanted to be when I was younger, and everything I wanted to run away from more recently.
My life with him flashes through my mind.
Memories of following my older brothers around, with my mom chasing us all around Ravage Castle. Therewerehappy times—I remember the camping trips, the family dinners, the family movie nights. But by the time I was four or five, my dad started drinking more. He pulled back, becoming obsessed with money. I spent my childhood making sure I didn’t upset him, running to my mom when he yelled at us, and learning how to keep my mouth shut. The older I got, the more my brothers protected me from the chaos. Chase and Kai, especially, since once Liam and Miles moved out, they were no longer in the house to witness everything that happened.
He was so strong and intimidating,terrifying…and now?
I step closer. The machine next to his bed beeps rhythmically, but I don’t miss the low resting heart rate or the low oxygen levels.
“Hi, Dad.”
He doesn’t move.
I’ve only ever watched my mother die, and I don’t remember what I did while we waited for her to take her last breath. I hadLayla and Scott—we all held hands for hours as we kept our eyes on Mom.
But this.
I swallow and sit down in the chair. Something heavy and unwelcome settles in my chest. The weight of the room presses down on me, like it’s pulling me into the floor. The machine beeps on. I glance at the door, half expecting to see someone else walk through it, to share this burden with them, to fill the room with something other than the sound of this damn machine and the silence that hangs heavy between me and my father.
What the hell do you tell someone who’s dying?
I grind my jaw as the minutes tick by. I’m restless, and uneasiness slithers through me.
I’m alone.
I’m alone.
I’m alone.
It feels like a betrayal, even though I know my brothers have their reasons for staying away. I wonder if they’ll regret it later, if they’ll wish they’d been here for this. Maybe they already do. Or maybe they’re just too scared to face him like this, to see the man who once commanded rooms and shattered our nerves reduced to a frail figure bound by wires and tubes. I get that. I wish I didn’t have to do this alone, either.
I wish someone else could take this moment from me so I wouldn’t have to sit here and confront everything he was and everything he’ll never be.
I regret not asking Layla to come with me because being the only person in a room while someone’s actively dying is… not fucking fun.
But I’m here. I’m the one who has to carry the weight of these last moments. The one who has to speak to him, even if he can’t respond, because the words have to be said. It feels like whatever is between us is too big to resolve in these final moments,but I can’t leave this room without trying. I can’t walk away and pretend that it doesn’t matter, that the last words spoken between us don’t matter.
I’m just about to get up to grab some coffee when the door to the room opens… and my four brothers walk in.
Miles is first, and his stoic expression takes in my father’s frail figure. His jaw hardens, and he looks at me. Out of all of them, Dad’s behavior affected him the most, and I’m truly surprised to see him here.
“Hey.”
“Who told you?” I ask, propping my foot on one knee.
