Page 77 of Broken Roads
Dad takes an unsteady step towards us. "That's enough, both of you."
But it's nowhere near enough. Twenty years of resentment won't be purged in five minutes of shouting.
"You could have called," I say, my voice dropping dangerously low. "Could have visited. Could have done anything other than send a fucking Christmas card with a picture of your perfect city life while Dad and I were busting our asses to keep this place running."
"I offered to help financially. Dad always said no."
I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "Of course he said no. We're Walkers. We don't take handouts, especially not from sons who couldn't be bothered to show up when it mattered."
"When it mattered?" Sebastian's voice rises again. "Like when Dad had his gallbladder out? I flew in. You were the one who told me not to bother coming to the hospital, that you had it handled."
"Because you were three hours late. Because you had some important meeting you couldn't miss."
"I was in surgery," Sebastian shouts. "Saving someone's life, actually. But sure, I should have just walked out mid-procedure to sit in a waiting room where I wasn't wanted anyway."
"Boys." Dad's voice cracks between us like a whip. "That is enough."
We both turn to look at him, and what I see makes my blood run cold. Dad's face has gone ashen, a gray pallor spreading across his features. He clutches at his chest, fingers digging into his flannel shirt like he's trying to reach inside and squeeze his own heart.
"Dad?" Sebastian's voice changes instantly. "Dad, what's wrong?"
Dad opens his mouth, but no words come out. Just a strangled gasp as his eyes go wide with panic. Reaching out, he takes one stumbling step forward.
Then his knees buckle, and he falls.
Sebastian lunges forward, catching him before he hits the floor. I'm frozen for one horrifying second, watching my father collapse into my brother's arms, his face contorted in pain.
"Dad!" I finally find my voice, dropping to my knees beside them as Sebastian gently lowers Dad to the floor. "What's happening? What's wrong with him?"
Sebastian's already in motion, fingers pressed to Dad's neck, eyes locked on his watch. "Possible cardiac event," he says, his voice suddenly clinical. "Call an ambulance. Now, Bradley."
But I can't move, can't breathe, can't do anything but stare at my father's gray face and listen to the roaring in my ears.
This can't be happening. Not again. Not like this.
"Bradley!" Sebastian's sharp command cuts through my panic. "Ambulance. Now."
My fingers fumble with my phone, suddenly too big for my hands. Everything moves in slow motion—unlocking the screen, dialing nine-one-one, my voice sounding distant and hollow as I spit out our address to the dispatcher. Through it all, Sebastian kneels beside our father, his movements precise and practiced as he loosens Dad's collar, checks his pulse, places him in what I vaguely recognize as the recovery position.
I hate how much I need his expertise right now, hate that when Dad's life hangs in the balance, it's my brother—the one who abandoned us—who knows exactly what to do.
"Ambulance is eight minutes out," I report, the words catching in my throat as I drop to my knees on Dad's other side.
With his fingers pressed to Dad’s wrist, Sebastian doesn't look up. "His pulse is irregular but strong. Has he been taking his heart medication?"
"Of course he has." The defensive answer comes automatically, though I honestly don't know. That's Ruthie's department. She makes sure Dad takes his pills with breakfast each morning.
"He's conscious but disoriented," Sebastian continues. "Dad, can you hear me? Can you squeeze my hand?"
Dad's eyes are unfocused, his breathing labored, but his fingers tighten slightly around Sebastian's.
"Good, that's good." My brother’s voice is calm and controlled. Nothing like the man who was shouting at me moments ago. "Dad, I need you to stay with us, okay? Help is coming."
I hover uselessly, watching my brother work. The room spins slightly, the floor unsteady beneath my knees. This is a nightmare. Has to be.
I’m still thinking that when footsteps thunder into the room. Hailey is first through the door, her face pale with shock as she takes in the scene. Ruthie and the boys are right behind her.
"Bradford," Ruthie gasps, rushing forward.
