“She’s busy.”

“Can I talk to her?” I hated that I was pleading. I really hated that he didn’t care if I was pleading.

I heard him let out an annoyed sigh, then heard him say to her, “Kellan wants to talk to you.” There was a brief pause, then his voice returned to me. “She says she’s busy…just like I told you she was.”

The rejection stung. It still fucking stung. “Just…let her know I’m fine.”

“Yeah. You coming back?” It didn’t sound like he cared either way. It was more like he needed to ask so he would know how to plan.

“No.” The word felt bitter in my mouth. Cold and unfeeling, just like them. Dad didn’t care about that either.

“Okay,” he stated.

I felt Kiera’s presence in the doorway as that remembered word echoed in my brain. Okay. It was okay that I was gone, and it was okay that I was never coming back. It was all just…okay. That was the last conversation I’d ever had with them. Eight months later, they were both dead, and I’d done what I’d said I wouldn’t do—I’d come back. I still wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Can I come in?” Kiera softly asked.

Making myself disengage from the past, I inhaled a deep breath and looked over to see her leaning against the doorframe. I nodded at her, then returned my eyes to the damaged wall. It felt like looking inside myself. Sure, it was patched-up, fixed to the best of my ability, but it would never look the same. The scar would always be there.

Kiera sat beside me on the bed, then she gently laid her head on my shoulder. I just sat there for a moment, wallowing in the pain of regret and abandonment. Then I let it go. With a weary sigh, I laid my head against Kiera’s, choosing to absorb her warmth instead of my pain.

“I’m sorry if that was harsh, Kiera. I’m just…don’t push me on this one, okay?” Please.

I felt my stomach clenching, tensing for another fight I didn’t want to have, but Kiera surprised me. Nodding against my shoulder, she said, “All right, Kellan.” I nearly sagged with relief. Thank God…she’s going to let it go.

We sat there in silence for a long time, resting against each other, recovering from the emotional onslaught. Then finally, Kiera placed her hand over my heart and quietly asked, “How long do you have? Until you have to go back?”

I let out a haggard sigh. Not long enough. “I have a flight in the morning, well, in a few hours.”

Her fingers clutched at my shirt, like she wanted to hold me here. “I wish you didn’t have to go…”