My father pulled away from the table. "You agreed to do this? Callum, going before a board or judge to argue that Timothy isn't fit to care for Everly is career suicide."

"But it's the right thing to do. Even you said so-his methods are too intrusive. He's stolen things from her that never belonged to him-father or not."

"Amazing," he sighed. "I wanted to fight for Everly to live, and my son wants to fight for her to die."

"I don't want her to die," I swore. "That is the very last thing I want in this world. But she deserves to decide what happens to her life, even after it's over."

"You'll need more than just a med student's argument."

"Are you offering your services?" I laughed.

He grumbled under his breath. "I don't know how much I could help either of you . . . but you'll at the very least need to know all you can about her condition."

"So I can snoop through your files?"

"No. I'm not at liberty to share those files with you." He smiled. "But you may ask me anything you'd like about Congenital Insensitivity to Pain with Anhidrosis. I'm perfectly allowed to talk about the condition."

"Pop," I smiled back at him with the coffee cup lifted to my mouth. "You're still a brilliant, brilliant man."

"Ask me before I change my mind," he encouraged. "Ask me before you realize at the end of all of this you will be guaranteed a career as a life guard. Although on the upside, at least Amelia won't be coming to my office asking about you and faking affairs with me."

"I could give two wild fucks about Amelia, Pop," I replied.

"I know," he grinned, "but you have to admit, the girl does look good in a bikini."

"You're such a dirty old man," I laughed, but then straightened up. "And I have nothing to admit."

"Then let's go back to CIPA," he encouraged.

"Congenital," I began. "So Everly was born this way."

"A person, Callum. We're not talking about her."

"Right," I nodded. "Insensitivity . . . ?"

"Technically, a person with CIPA can feel pain, but they lack the messages to the brain to tell them that they are in pain. I'd have to read through my notes again, it's been so long, but it's genetic. Both parents carry a mutated gene. Their child would be born with both."

"Anhidrosis," I sighed. "Well, that explains the fever in Montauk. Hard to keep cool if you can't sweat."

He nodded. "It's one of the most dangerous parts of the condition. As a child . . ." he paused and started over, "A child wants to run around and play. They want to explore, play sports, climb the jungle gym. But it's impossible unless you want to risk stroke, or brain damage. Organ failure. Things can go from normal to catastrophic in a flash when dealing with CIPA."

"What's the worst you have seen?" I asked. "Don't name names, only give me a scenario."

"I could only give one name because CIPA is rare. So rare, in fact, I had not ever even heard of the condition until . . ." He eyed me, and then moved on. "There's hardly any records that are of use. Most people die before age three." He sighed deeply. "The worst I've ever seen? A toddler who needed to partially amputate her pinkie finger because children like to teeth on their hands. A normal child would have known to stop themselves, but when you can't feel pain . . ."

I stared down into my empty coffee cup as he continued.

"Then I watched her be put to bed by strapping her down in restraints, so she wouldn't scratch her eyes out in her sleep. Then I watched the tip of her tongue be surgically reattached after she bit it off. Then I stitched the left corner of her lip back to her face. Then I watched her nearly starve herself, because she's too scared of biting herself, and then she was force fed through her I.V. Then I watched her grow, and not be able to cry. Then I watched her sink into a hospital room that became a prison, and her bright eyes turn dark, and her innocence replaced by the cruelness of life." He slid his chair away. "The worst of it, Callum? That was all in such a short amount of time. I'm sure I missed the worst of it. I'm sure today, when Everly woke and thought she'd be going to class, going to see you after the weekend you gave her in Montauk, she lit up like a Christmas tree, and then Timothy came into her room and told her she would not be going to class. I'm sure he reminded her of her burned hands and rubbed all of his routine and rules in her face, just to put her back in place."

Andrew looked at me, and put his hand on my arm. "Do you understand that when he gave you the greenlight to take Everly with you to our beach house, he had no faith in you? You were being used as a lesson to teach her what will happen if she tries to find independence. Whatever game you think you're capable of winning with him-forget it-he has already mapped out the plans. Not only would you be better off leaving Everly alone, but so would she. I can only imagine what she felt when he took going to see you in class away from her this morning."

My chest throbbed. "I can't abandon her."

"You can't beat him either."

"If you were in my shoes, what would you do, Pop?"

My father thought for a long while, staring off as if he was seeing something I could not. "If I were you?"

"Yeah, what would you do to save her?"

Still staring off, he replied seriously, "I'd put on my knight's helmet, and mercilessly slay the dragon."

FRAGILE HEARTS CARRY HEAVY ARMOR.

After Montauk, my only connection to Everly was through Timothy being my attending, but this was a man who didn't even bother to hang pictures of his daughter in his house. I couldn't find her in his shadow.