“You have arrived,” the GPS said, interrupting our intense conversation. I learned more about Dylan in the short drive than I had in the time we’d spent at his house.
Dylan pulled into line to enter the garage.
“You can just drop me off,” I said.
“No, I can’t.” He took a ticket from the machine and drove through the opened gate. “Do you know what floor he’s on?”
I shook my head and checked my phone. Mom still hadn’t responded.
“He’s going to be okay,” Dylan said again.
My signal disappeared the minute we entered the underground parking garage. My nerves frayed more and more as we looked for a spot. Dylan drove around in circles until someone finally pulled out of a space. I opened the door before he even shut off the engine. I’d distracted myself with Dylan’s life on the way there, but panic set in when the hospital came into view. Dad was in there somewhere. Someone was poking him with a needle or he was inside the MRI tube or he was in a CT scan or one of a million things they could be doing to him.
I ran to the elevator and pressed the button. The doors didn’t open. I pressed it again. And again. And again.
And again.
Dylan’s hand covered mine. I tore my gaze off the button and stared into his eyes. He said something. What I had no idea, because all I could think about was Dad and how much Dad liked Dylan. How much Dad would’ve liked to see Hank play again. How much Dad loved our family. How much Dad smiled even though he was hurting.
“Cam?” Dylan said, sounding as if he was on the opposite end of a tunnel.
I was frozen.
“Cam, you with me?” he said, louder and clearer.
I jumped and the fog lifted from my brain. “I can’t lose him,” I whispered.
He pulled me into a hug and I lost any control I thought I had. I sobbed into his shoulder as he held me until the elevator dinged. I pulled away from him, wiping my eyes as I stepped inside. Dylan pressed the button for the lobby.
“I’m sorry,” I said, staring at the dull metal doors.
“It’s okay.” His hand found mine, entwining our fingers. We rode in silence to the lobby.
When the elevator opened, Dylan led me out. We stopped at the receptionist’s desk.
“Excuse me,” Dylan said to the man. “Could you tell me what room William Harris is in, please?”
“Sure thing,” the man answered. He typed into his computer, frowned, then typed again. His wide eyes skimmed by me and met Dylan’s straight on. “I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have him registered. Do you have the right hospital?”
Dylan glanced over his shoulder at me. I took a breath and stepped forward. It had been a long time since anyone took charge. It had been a long time since I’d let that happen. Now, though, it was time to be brave.
“Yes, he had an appointment with his neurologist, Dr. Thompson, today. Mom said they admitted him.” I pressed my lips together to stop them from quivering.
The man nodded and typed again. “Oh, here he is. He’s in room 1035. I’m sorry, Miss. They must’ve typed it in wrong. He’s under Harris William instead.”
“Thank you,” Dylan said. He led me toward the elevators.
I stood beside him, terrified of what I would find in room 1035. And terrified of what I wouldn’t.
“I’m here, Cam.” Dylan squeezed my fingers.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Dad stayed in the hospital for three days undergoing tests. I never missed a show, but I didn’t want to perform either. Hank didn’t say a word to me. Nor did he ask about Dad. It was business as usual for him, but he didn’t snap at me constantly at least.
I spent as much time with Dad as I could, forgoing all my planned lessons with Dylan. Mom took me to the theater and went back to the hospital, only to come back later to pick me up. When Dad came home, he pretended nothing had happened. I wondered how much he’d been faking all these years.
“Dylan picking you up today?” Dad asked from his well-worn recliner.
“No.” I dusted the living room and cleaned off the coffee table.
“Pumpkin, stop,” Dad said gently. The magazines slipped from my hand. “Your life doesn’t stop because of me. You’ll still go on whether I’m here or not. Understand?”
“But you’ll be here,” I whispered. “Right?”
Dad smiled. “I plan on it, but the Good Lord makes his own plans. Now, call that boy and get back to work. You’ve spent enough time moping around me.”
“But—”
“No buts, Cameron.” Dad pointed a shaky finger at me. His gaze focused on it, and he put his hand down. “I’ve watched that video he made so many times I almost wore out your mother’s phone.”
And he’d shown it to every hospital staff he could find. I smiled.
“Make another. Get noticed.” He pointed at his chest. “I’m so proud of you, but don’t use me as an excuse not to live. I’m a damn good example why you should.”
I rushed up to him and hugged him harder than I had in a long time. “I love you, Dad.”
“Love you, too.” He patted my back. “Make sure I hear the next song first.”
“I will.”
He waved me away with his hand and stared at the TV. I watched him from the hallway until he waved me off again. When I got to my room, I texted Dylan.
“How’s your dad?” Dylan
