Chapter 89

Was all it took for Dad to change his mind a fucking stabbing? 27

The moment they left the ward, Dad turned on him.

To hug him.

Eli froze in the grip, his own hands stuck out awkwardly by his father’s sides. They hadn’t hugged since Eli was twelve. And suddenly his father was crushing him in a bear hug, Eli’s ribs creaking under the pressure.

And then, just as quickly, he let go. And began to walk.

“Um,” Eli said, then jogged to catch up. “Are you…alright?”

“Both of my children, and my grandchild, were in danger tonight,” Dad said tersely. “I’m doing as well as you might expect.”

Eli opened his mouth, then thought better of it. There was nothing he could say to that.

Dad was silent on the long walk to the lifts, the longer wait for—and then in—said lift, and then the thankfully short walk to the ward. Eli fidgeted, unsure of what to say or how to say it, and then was distracted by his mother’s tired smile and warm embrace.