And Ava would. She had been putting Grace first her whole life—had done so willingly and gladly. That was what you did as a parent. You put the needs and welfare of your child above your own, always and forever, until the day you died.

Grace’s eyes fluttered opened, widened when she saw her mother sitting next to her.

“You’re home, baby,” Ava said, her voice clear and strong.

Grace’s lips quivered, and just before she pushed herself up and gathered herself in her mother’s arms, Ava caught a glimpse of the terror and pain that were now living behind her daughter’s eyes. It cut Ava deeply, knowing there was nothing she could do to erase her daughter’s pain, and like a child Ava wished that God would somehow magically grant her wish to remove this burden from her daughter. If Ava could trade a limb, even her eyesight, to erase her daughter’s pain, she would do it.

But life didn’t work that way—and God didn’t work that way. God had left his own son to die on the cross, so it was foolish to think that He would meddle in her affairs. She would guide her daughter through this. Ava had gathered a lot of hard-bought experience in the area of pain management—and that’s all life was, learning how to manage your pain.

Grace sobbed against her chest. Ava rubbed her daughter’s back. She kissed the top of her head and her cheek, Grace’s sobs loud and wet against her ear, and she kept holding on to her daughter when she felt her relax in her arms.

“They—” Grace began.

“You don’t have to talk,” Ava whispered. “There’s plenty of time for that later. You’re safe. That’s all you need to think about right now.”

“She made me go to him.”

“Who?”

“The woman. She said she was working with Dad.”

“Your father? He didn’t have—”

“She kept saying he was the one who rushed inside the house to come get me. She’s crazy. She made me get out of the car and kneel down in all this blood next to this man lying in the road and kept screaming at me to talk to him.”

Ava felt very still.

“I’d never seen him before,” Grace said. “This woman kept telling me to talk to him even though he was, like, already dead.”

“What did this man say?”

“Nothing. The fires were coming and there was all this smoke and we had to leave. We had to leave him there.”

“You left him there,” Ava said, trying hard not to picture Sebastian.

“Yeah. In the road. We left him there and he probably, like, got all burned up.”

“Who was this woman?”

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me her name—and she wouldn’t tell me why I had to talk to this dead guy. Sebastian was his name. Sebastian Kane.” Grace sniffled. Swallowed. Sniffled again. “Do you know him?”

“Yes,” Ava said, rubbing her daughter’s back. “I’ve known him all my life. You will, too.”