“And?” She bit the corner of her thumbnail, then stuck her hand in her pocket.

“Heart attack, basically. He’s getting a pacemaker put in at four.”

“That’s smart.” Alice rubbed her temple. “Okay.”

I stared, tiny memories taking the shape of puzzle pieces—the doctor’s card on Dad’s desk, the extra-long trip to the UK with time built in to rest, that “appointment” Nora had referenced, that frantic text about Dad not picking up his phone.

Alice, standing here, disappointed. Not shocked.

“You knew,” I said.

“Knew what?”

“That he was sick.”

“It’s not sick, exactly, it’s . . .” She sighed, then pressed a hand gently to my arm. “We didn’t want to worry you. You’ve got enough going on and it didn’t . . .” She peered unblinking at the doors to the ICU. “It didn’t seem like it would lead to anything serious.”

“You need to tell me things.” My face started to sting. “I am so sick of being shut out, you have no idea—!”

“Okay,” she said, sounding exasperated.

“I’m not the family pet. I’m your sister.”

“Okay.” Her voice was softer now, her eyes on mine. “I understand that, Roo. I’m sorry. I am. Okay?”

I nodded.

“Can we go see him?” She pointed to the doors.

I put my hands in my hair. “I forgot to ask. I . . . panicked. I don’t know.”

She strode to the front desk, uncowed by the stern woman manning it. A few seconds later, she pointed to me, got a nod from the desk lady, and walked back to me.

“We can have a quick visit.”

I braced myself as we walked into Dad’s cubicle in the ICU, thinking he’d look like he had on the paramedics’ gurney, oxygen mask, lines everywhere. But he was sitting up, shirtless, circular nodules connected to his chest, one IV line going into his hand.

He looked tired, otherwise okay.

Before we could say hi, the nurse bustled in to check vitals. Alice and I backed into the hall to give her room.

“You don’t have to hang out long, Roo. I’ve got this.”

I started to argue. “I want—”

“He’ll stay overnight after the surgery,” she cut me off quietly. “Whenever he’s allowed to get back, we’ll need the house ready for him. Do you think you could tidy a little, stock up on healthy food, that kind of thing?”

Tidy. It stung more than she could have known.

Still, there was a good reason my family always slotted me into that role. I wasn’t Alice, striding boldly up to the nurses’ desk to ask the obvious question. If I wanted them to see me differently, I was going to have to be different.

But this wasn’t the moment.

“Of course,” I said. “Don’t you have rehearsal tomorrow? I can come back, sub in for the night so you can rest . . .”