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was swaying until that hand grounded her. “He’s still hanging

on, but he slipped into a coma earlier this afternoon.”

“When?”

“Around three.”

She’d been driving Giana home. Playing pretend. Scheming

how to get that necklace back because Giana had been so

coldly indifferent to her plight. Rage ripped through her again.

She was obliterated by it.

She’d told Giana she was nothing and no one. It had never

been truer.

Hearing what the nurse was saying was almost impossible.

“You can go in and talk to him. He’s still hanging on. There’s

a chance he could come out of it.”

Coralyn nodded. She was numb. There was nothing but

herself and her rage and despair. She threw herself through the

door and tumbled into the chair beside her dad’s bed. She

grasped his hand, and already he looked so lifeless. So

shrunken. So pale. Not her father at all. Just a ghost of him

while he was still there, his spirit lingering somewhere in his

body.

She left the necklace in her pocket. She should have been

here with her dad. Instead she was with Giana. It was all so

wrong. Gianna’s coldness. The deadness in her eyes. The way

she’d taken pleasure in hurting her by saying no when she had

an entire houseful of shit.

“Dad,” Coralyn sobbed, smoothing her fingers over his

paper-thin skin at the back of his hand. “Dad. I love you so

much. I got the necklace back. I’m going to be okay. It’s all

going to be okay. If you’re ready, then you can go. Don’t

worry about me. I love you. I love you so much.”