The doctor decided to keep me for observation for some hours in case I had a concussion, and Connor and Alys were allowed into my room after my head was wrapped up in gauze, making me look like a deranged pineapple. The staff had given me some strong painkillers, and I was floating on a somewhat pleasant wave of nausea.

Alys burst into tears when she looked at me. “Oh, Sweet Pea…”

“Yeah, yeah,” I replied. “Is Phil…”

“He’s got alcohol poisoning,” Connor stated, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Bad. He’s on fluids and oxygen as far as I know. He’s not conscious, but he’s breathing on his own. His dad is here, and man, that guy is pissed. But the doctors are confident that Phil is going to pull through with no long-term problems. Once he’s awake, they’re gonna do some scans to see if he fucked up his pelvis and leg again.”

Sighing, I settled back into my pillow.

“We need to talk, Kenna,” Connor said.

Alys averted her eyes.

“Okay,” I said, wondering where this was going.

He took a deep breath. “Phil needs professional help. He needs someone who won’t let their feelings cloud their judgment. You and I both know this. You love him too much, and it weakened your resolve to help him. You let him push you around these last few weeks because you were afraid of hurting his feelings. And when you had enough, when you were hurting, you had to leave him alone, and he fuckin’ lost his shit.”

Deflating under his words, I had to agree with him.

“I’ve spoken with his dad, and I’ve talked with Da. He thinks you fell, by the way, so stick with that story. If he knew Phil pushed you, even accidentally, he’d go ballistic. I told him you tripped over your feet and smacked your head into the wall. It’s what we told the paramedics, too.”

“All right.”

“We’re insisting Phil goes into rehab. It’s not like he’s a hard-core addict, but alcoholism runs in his family, and he needs to take care of all his demons now before we let him back into your life.”

Say what? “Excuse me?”

Connor nodded. “He needs to get a handle on himself, by himself, and if you’re around, he’s going to let your love for him justify his actions—”

“I just told him I’d never leave him!” I cried.

“We’re not asking you to end the relationship. But he needs to get well, in his head, in his body, everything. Louis knows a good rehab center. Phil will be getting better in the lap of luxury with all sorts of therapists and other shit. Jason, Flipper, and I will see him every day. We’ll be able to get him back into music. He needs to heal himself and not rely on you to do it for him.”

“What about me?” I asked in a small voice. “Can’t I go see him, too?”

Connor shook his head. “You won’t be here. You and Alys are going to visit Gran and Gramps in Scotland. You need to get away, clear your head, and heal, too. They already know you guys are coming, and Da’s real happy about it.”

“For how long?”

Connor’s jaw clenched. “Rehab takes ten weeks.”

The air rushed from my lungs, and I felt the room spin. Ten weeks! Ten weeks without seeing Phil?

“You know that this is the right thing, Kenna,” Connor said softly. “For both of you.”

Alys was silently telling me she would support me in whatever capacity. She, too, needed to heal, still reeling from the loss of her husband. If not for me, then I could certainly do this for her.

Most of all, I could do this for Phil.

As I looked into my brother’s handsome face, he saw what was churning inside my head.

Reaching out, he took my hand and squeezed gently. “Don’t take the easy way out by doing this for them. You need to admit that you’re doing this for you.”

My throat closed up, and tears filled my eyes. I nodded. “Okay. But I get to say good-bye.”

Seven hours later, I was discharged, and Connor and Alys led me to Phil’s room.

Fluids and oxygen had Phil’s pallor looking much, much healthier than it had when we first arrived. He was no longer horrifically jaundiced, his liver and kidneys working hard to clean out his system. Bruise-colored shadows lay beneath his eyes, and his face was gaunt and heavy with his beard.

Before I could reach his bedside, Louis came up to me and wrapped me in a warm fatherly embrace. “Oh, Kenna…you poor little girl.”

“I’m okay, Dad. I promise.”

Clasping my upper arms, he took a step back, his eyes searching me over. “No…but you will be. You both will.”

All I wanted was to get close one last time to the man who’d made my dreams a reality. A few steps, and I was tucking a stray tendril of his thick brown hair behind an ear.

Louis steered my brother and Alys outside the room, giving us privacy.

“Hey, babe…” I whispered. “I don’t want to leave you, but I hope you’ll understand why I have to and that you’ll forgive me. When you’re all better, I’ll be back, and I promise, we’ll get married and start that life you’ve always dreamed of. You’ve made me want it, too, more than anything.”

Leaning forward, sniffing back my tears, I pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Somewhere in his brain, he felt the pressure and softly kissed me back.

“I love you,” I whispered.

His lips parted in response.

I had to leave. If he woke up, my resolve would crumble, and I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.

But I had to. His life and our future depended on it.

Phil

“I love you.”

With my whole heart, I wanted to tell my Baby Girl that I loved her, too. But I was stuck in a bizarre bile-colored fog, searching for a way out. Her voice had pulled me forward in the direction I needed to go. All roads led to Kenna, and Kenna was where I’d always be headed.

There were times when I was too fuckin’ tired, in so much pain, but if I stopped to rest, I could lose my way, so I kept at it, moving through the fog.

The first thing I was aware of was her scent. Clean, pure Kenna.

Fuck, I hurt.

That was the second thing I was aware of. My God, I had never hurt all over like this before. It was worse than having the fuckin’ flu. I was thirsty as all hell. My head felt ready to crack open, and the pain shooting through my eyeballs when I opened them made them water.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” I groaned, my voice sounding like paper scratching on asphalt.

“Philip?”

It took a hell of a lot of effort, but I turned my head and saw Dad, looking older than I’d ever seen him. Surprisingly, the light in the room wasn’t so bright.

Then, I was shocked.

I’m in a fuckin’ hospital? Again?

“What the hell?” I had an IV drip in my arm and a fuckin’ mask over my face. Am I still in Saskatoon? “Where the hell am I?”

Movement caught the corner of my eye, and I turned my head to the right and saw Connor sitting in a chair.

“Hey,” I said to him, confused. “What’s goin’ on? Where’s Kenna?”

The look on Connor’s face…

Fuck.

That look was both furious and sad, and it made no sense.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Little Brother asked.

“Why do people keep askin’ me that?” I demanded, knowing I’d recently heard that question a shit-ton.

“Because, Philip, you keep losing your damn mind,” my father replied.

Shit, he’s pissed.

“Where’s Kenna?” I demanded again. “I swear, she was just here.”

“She was,” said Connor, standing up and walking toward me. “She was saying good-bye. She left about fifteen minutes ago.” He took a seat on the bed next to my knees. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

Starin’ at the wall behind his head—

What color is that? Taupe?How benign. It helped my head though.