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“I was just trying to figure it out. Let’s go with friend.” Trev shrugged and gave her a self-deprecating smile. “My friend deals in rare plants. Her dream is to repopulate extinct and endangered species across the world.”

Although her gaze turned thoughtful, the girl remained mute.

“Is your dad Stockton?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Trevor Blane.” He squatted and held out his hand for her to shake.

“Lily Stockton.”

The second she touched him, he could feel her ebbing life force. She was dying. Whatever disease she had was terminal.

Although he suspected cancer, Trev asked, “Why is your dad rotating in doctors? What’s wrong with you?”

“Defective heart. But I’m not a candidate for a transplant.” When he stayed silent, waiting and watchful, she grimaced. “And cancer. Rhabdomyosarcoma.”

“I’m not certain what that last one is.”

“It affects the soft tissue in my body. Mine is stage IV. Dad said it couldn’t be treated because of my weak heart muscle.”

Based on her overall energy and the trace magic he could detect throughout her aura, Lily was receiving magical infusions of a sort. Was that why Stockton had wanted Soleil to come to his estate?

With a casualness he didn’t feel, Trev nodded, plopped down next to her, and stared at the waves as they reflected squiggly lights from a peek-a-boo moon.

“How long do you have, Lily?” he asked softly.

“The last doctor said a few months. That was about three weeks ago. Dad fired him. Said he didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”

Rather than sound amused, as a normal teen might, she sounded tired.

“Your father refuses to give up hope.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It’s going to be bad, though. When I’m gone, he’s…” With a deep inhale, she shook her head. Trev got the impression she was frustrated more than sad.

“You want him to give up hope?” he asked.

“Yes. No! I don’t know.” She dumped a fistful of sand off to her side. “Why is he trying so hard when I’m going to die anyway?”

“He’s your dad, kid. In my experience, there are fathers who go to the ends of the earth for their children.”

Her curious gaze on his face felt like a living thing, and oddly, Trevor wanted to hide from what he knew her next question would be.

“Did your dad?” she asked.

“Nope. Mine faked his own death and disappeared on my younger brother and me. Until last year, we didn’t know he was alive.”

“Holy shit!”

“Don’t swear,” Gene Stockton’s voice preceded him.

Trevor studied the man’s profile as he joined them. There was no anger, merely a healthy concern for his daughter’s welfare.

“Lily, it’s late. You should be in bed, resting for tomorrow.”

“I’m not going!”

“We’ve discussed this?—”