was swaying until that hand grounded her. “He’s still hanging
on, but he slipped into a coma earlier this afternoon.”
“When?”
“Around three.”
She’d been driving Giana home. Playing pretend. Scheming
how to get that necklace back because Giana had been so
coldly indifferent to her plight. Rage ripped through her again.
She was obliterated by it.
She’d told Giana she was nothing and no one. It had never
been truer.
Hearing what the nurse was saying was almost impossible.
“You can go in and talk to him. He’s still hanging on. There’s
a chance he could come out of it.”
Coralyn nodded. She was numb. There was nothing but
herself and her rage and despair. She threw herself through the
door and tumbled into the chair beside her dad’s bed. She
grasped his hand, and already he looked so lifeless. So
shrunken. So pale. Not her father at all. Just a ghost of him
while he was still there, his spirit lingering somewhere in his
body.
She left the necklace in her pocket. She should have been
here with her dad. Instead she was with Giana. It was all so
wrong. Gianna’s coldness. The deadness in her eyes. The way
she’d taken pleasure in hurting her by saying no when she had
an entire houseful of shit.
“Dad,” Coralyn sobbed, smoothing her fingers over his
paper-thin skin at the back of his hand. “Dad. I love you so
much. I got the necklace back. I’m going to be okay. It’s all
going to be okay. If you’re ready, then you can go. Don’t
worry about me. I love you. I love you so much.”