She nods. “Yeah. Seems simple enough.”

“If he replies, wake me up.”

“Of course.”

Daniel sighs and leans forward until their faces are an inch apart. Lynell stares at his eyes as they flick between hers and her mouth. “I love you,” he whispers. She knows he’s waiting for her to say it back. She wants to, she feels it, but no words escape. These words would give him hope for a future together.

But she can’t give him that hope. She can’t bear to think of a future with him. To imagine a life together. Because there is no future. Not for her. She’ll be dead before the week is over. And even if she survives, how could she selfishly accept the love of this incredible man, when she took away his family? Anna deserves a father like Daniel. Daniel deserves a daughter and a family. Lynell doesn’t deserve either.

“I know you love me, too,” Daniel says, his hand cupping her cheek. She leans into it but keeps her eyes closed. “I want you to love me.” His thumb rubs her cheekbone and her eyes burn. His lips meet hers and she relaxes them, moving into the kiss despite the shame and regret warring in her mind. When he pulls away, she opens her eyes and sees him still staring at her, lips tilted up in a hint of a smile. “You don’t have to be afraid of this. Of us.”

“I’m not,” she says. “I haven’t been in years.”

He tilts his head. “Then what are you afraid of?”

She looks down and shrugs. “Everything else.”

Daniel runs his hand through her hair, and he pulls her in for a hug. “It’s okay. I am too.” They embrace for several long minutes before Lynell pulls away.

“Sleep. I’ll wake you up if anything happens.”

Daniel nods and lies back, closing his eyes. Lynell drinks an entire bottle of water, downs as many pills as she’s allowed and uses the bathroom twice. She sends messages to Zach through the watch every fifteen minutes and tries not to remember the past ten days, or really the past three years. She thinks about Anna and what she may look like now. What kind of life she may have. She wonders if her second birthday two months ago was fun. What kind of cake did she have? Did she smile and laugh? Can she talk yet? Lynell sits with her head against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

Lynell looks down at her watch to check the time. Almost one o’clock. Daniel’s been asleep for a good five hours and there’s still no word from Zach.

She thinks about her father’s letter, reciting it quietly over and over, trying to decipher a code. She tries putting together the first letter of every word, then the first word of every sentence.

The watch buzzes.

Lynell jerks and stares down at the face of the watch.

It’s flashing. Black. Red. White. Black. Red. White. Black. Red. White. With each flash, it buzzes. Lynell spins around, her heart thudding in her throat.