"Ah, the back-up wife. Yes I'm sure you'd love to solidify anything Andrew has to say, won't you?"

My father cursed him out in Italian and then Marta asked him to calm down. "It's fine, it's fine. I've been getting juvenile behavior like that for years. Believe me I can handle another couple minutes worth."

"What is he keeping in that attic?" Tim demanded. "Don't tell me Julep's memory. No woman could be that big of a doormat."

"Her memory?" Marta asked. "Why no sir, I don't believe our attic is large enough for that. But I'll tell you what it is large enough for. Every Thanksgiving Andrew and I round up little children from our city and lock them away up there. Oh, we have hundreds of them, all kinds and creeds. Your Everly has made a perfect addition, what with that peach hair of hers and all. So unique looking. It's truly brightened the group up so nicely."

I had to smile because not only did she round-house kick him in the dick, but she also kept her story straight while doing it-Everly had peach hair in July and blonde on Thanksgiving.

Marta broke out into a coughing fit.

"We should get going," Officer Stroud said. "Sorry for wasting your time. Feel better Mrs. Trovatto."

And I wish I could say that was the worst of what happened and the rest was smooth sailing-Everly and I lived Happily Ever After and her father forgot all about her-but we weren't a fairytale. We were a sky with fleeting stars.

So it didn't surprise me when she wasn't in the attic two nights later. While I had learned the power of hope, I hadn't the desire to learn the point of faith, because I expected to have the elastic of my heart stretched and broken eventually.

I stormed out of my house with only my anger unlocked, gunning for Timothy and fully prepared to suffer the consequences.

Three blocks closer to her house than mine, I came to a pause as everything precious in my world lied on the sidewalk unmoving.

"Oh, fuck me . . . no . . . NO . . . EVERLY . . . EVERLY ..." I rushed to where she lied, crushed my knees to the concrete as I twisted her head to find a pulse that didn't wish to thump any longer faintly disappearing under my touch. "No. You can't die, yet. You promised."

And there wasn't a debate when I looked to my right. I knew where I had to go.

I swept her up in my arms and ran until I reached her house. My foot kicked the shit out of the front door until all the lights turned on and Timothy swung the door wide, full-on cursing, and ready to kill. But then he saw the lifeless doll in my arms and the war between us came to a halt. He laid her in the backseat of his Range Rover, and I was only allowed to ride along because if her heart stopped I would be needed. When we reached the city streets traffic was blocked because some asshole on a bike got hit by a cab. Her pulse dropped beneath my fingertips. I didn't ask for permission as I popped the door and pulled her into my arms. I could run faster than we moved in traffic. The hospital was only ten blocks away. Timothy abandoned his car and ran with me until we reached Presbyterian.

As soon as we reached the E.R. entrance he wrenched Everly from my arms and rushed her in with orders to the nurses as they fleeted down the hall. I followed, but as soon as he had her on the gurney he turned around and I was subjected to Timothy Brighton full throttle. He thrust me into the wall and kept a fistful of my sweater choked around my neck.

"Maybe when she dies you will see that this was never a game to me!"

"She was on the sidewalk near your house. She was probably coming home." I had to lie because truth was I had no idea how she ended up there.

He slammed me into the wall again. "And why were you there?"

"I was going for a walk to clear my head. I saw her and . . ."

He tightened his grip until my air supply was cut-off. Wrathful words flew at me in a mad rush. "Do not lie to me! Do not even try your weak attempt to convince me you don't care about Everly! I have seen it with my own eyes! You think I didn't watch the two of you in class every day? You're the only one she even acknowledged! You're the only person who has ever made her defy me! She ran away from home because of you and your foolishness-making her believe she could live normally. She's not an average girl! She could never ever live an average life!"

"You're right," I snapped back, "she's not average. She's incredible. She's inspiring. She's tougher than you or I could ever wrap our simple minds around. But the difference between us is I would allow her to decide what to do with those qualities. I love her enough to let her go if that's what she wanted. At best, you only love yourself."

"Everything I do is because I love Everly," he fumed, "Everything."

"No, everything you do is because you love controlling people. Everly is an easy target. At least she was. That's why you hate me so much. I took away your control." The ire in me bubbled over. I didn't care who watched us, who was alarmed. I was going to explain this shit to him until one of us broke. "For Christ's sake you just admitted you know I care about her-that you witnessed it-and still you'd deny her that because of your own fear! That's not called love Dr. Brighton. That's called being an egotistical, manipulating prick who doesn't give a shit about his daughter." I shoved him off of me. "You don't even have pictures of her in your home. How do you think that makes Everly feel-to walk around her own house and not see memories of the things that made you proud, or happy?"

He pressed the butt of his hand to head as if he suddenly had a headache. "That statement proves how green you are, Callum. Do you have any idea what childhood was like for Everly? She didn't go to a first day of school, or celebrate birthdays, or ride a bike. Every day I expected it to be the day she would die. She spent ninety percent of her life in the hospital with injuries or being monitored to prevent injuries. There was no book to teach me how to treat her. She wrote the book on CIPA! Trust me . . . there wasn't anything worth photographing about that!"

My fists balled. "Well I've seen things that should have been captured. For starters the fact that Everly wants to give her heart to her friend if she dies first. And how she laughs, how she really laughs when she's in the moment. How she keeps quiet when in actuality she's really full of words but too scared to share them because no one ever listened to her. And of course . . . the hope in her eyes as she watches fireworks bloom."

His face pulled tight, and he surged forward as if she wanted to hit me again, but I turned the tables first. "The only reason I ran her to your house and not mine was because it was best for her. I don't give a damn what your plans are for me, how you'd like to ruin me, but I won't let you do it to Everly. Your first mistake was underestimating how much someone could love her. Never forget that."

Anemia. That was my new least favorite word. Well, that and forbidden. As in, "I'm sorry Callum but Dr. Brighton said you're forbidden from seeing Everly."

I wasn't going down without a fight. So I sat on the floor outside of her door every minute I wasn't working in the hospital. I had my books and laptop and studied there. I had scary hair-net lady prepared hospital food and ate it there. I had a crunchy blanket and flat worthless pillow and slept there.

I had security escorting me away every other hour.

I had the worst rotations.

I had the largest work load.

I had no friends on the inside once Cecily found out it was all a scheme.