He laughed as he fried a chicken cutlet. "Everly must be feeding you rabbit food. You're practically a stick figure."

"I think it's called being a slave . . . I mean doctor."

His smile spread. "I told you to become a lifeguard." He slid a plate of chicken and rigatoni my way. "At least my grandson looks healthy. Smart too. You're doing a good job, Callum. You and Everly both. Sorry it's been so long since we've visited."

"Where is she?" I asked, looking up from my plate. "Andy said she went to buy food, but clearly that's a lie."

He turned back to the stove. "She went out with Marta."

"Well, when are they coming home? I couldn't reach her by phone, and I wanted to see her before I left tonight. I had no idea you guys were coming."

He didn't say anything.

"Is everything okay, Pop?"

His smile was slight. "Just eat your food. It's getting cold."

Just.

It was a rarity.

It was a sign.

It was during the quietest part of the night when fate decided to reveal herself. I was near the end of my rounds when I felt the invisible tether sew itself around my ribs, jerking me in front of a gurney on the move as if lightning had bolted through my chest, effectively blocking their path.

"I'm sorry," I said, but as I looked up I recognized the surgeon from pediatrics. One look at his face and I didn't need to inquire further, but my eyes needed the confirmation to believe. They glanced to the patient-Scout Everdeen-in need of a heart. Scout Everdeen, on route to get one.

"I really need to get moving, Dr. Trovatto."

"Whh ..." I nearly vomited. "Where . . . where is Everly?"

"I need to get this boy to surgery STAT. He's got a donor being prepped."

I was too numb to fight. I let them pass and withdrew my phone, dialing her number wrong three times before my fingers could stop trembling long enough to find her in my contacts even though her name was the one staring back at me.

Everly Anne Everly Anne Everly Anne I shook my head.

Everly Anne Everly Anne Everly Anne She was right there, her name was right there, I could see it and spell it and recite the numbers that led to her, but there was nothing on the other side but silence, the loudest silence screaming at me to find another truth because this was not acceptable.

There was a riot in my heart and it needed to be heard.

I made my feet move until they came full circle.

My father stood outside the doors of the O. R. hallway.

"You son of a bitch," I gunned. "You knew! You knew she was here!"

His hands raised in surrender. "I had no choice. She asked me to come. Timothy gave her up, Callum."

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"After she turned twenty-one . . . he gave her up. Everly asked me to be her power of attorney."

"She wouldn't do that," I argued. "She would never fuckin' do that. All she ever wanted was freedom."

"Yes," he said gently, "and to not hurt you. She asked me so you wouldn't have to be the one who had to do this, Callum. She was scared of what it might do to you after she was gone."

"I just saw her . . . I just fuckin' saw her this morning. We talked all morning on the swing. We ate breakfast. I just saw her."

He stared at me unsure, but said, "She's not here," he said. "She's being air-lifted . . ."

"What happened?" I demanded.

"She bled into her brain," he said quietly. "It was too late by the time we got her here."

"You just said she wasn't here! Stop lying to me!"