LIVELY POV

We learn new things every day. Today, I discovered that the most besetting consistency in our veins could be the need to restrain our poise in public.
Acknowledging nods from guests enjoying their evening proved to be torture to my caged heart. My smile, though thoroughly unmindful, played its part as I rambled through the bustling hall that hosted my engagement ceremony. Until, in my meandering, I stumbled upon Genevieve and Madeline.

"Just the right person we were looking for," Madeline pinned her arm around mine in an exaggerated 'we've known each other for a long time' manner.

"Me?" I asked, mentally and unwillingly following the girls to the table they directed us to.

"Yes, we need your phone number," bluntly said Genevieve.

This is what Josie wanted from me, right?

Sensing my silence as my brain evaluated, Genevieve proceeded, "So we can reach out; we definitely need to know each other better."

What use would it deliver?

I'm not making hasty decisions over my emotions, but what if, when all this is over and I find calm, it tells me to leave this phase behind—and I agree that this level of vileness should cement the reason why Aaron and I shouldn't be together? That analytical thought wasn't morally right, as it carried the selfishness of my own, overthrowing the snare holding me down to the ideal world where Bubble could be cured. And for that, I know I need Aaron.

The back of my eyes stung with tears I refused to let the girls see. I nodded more than necessary as I took the phone from Madeline and typed in my digits, lifting my head with a forced smile that made it seem like everything was okay.

"We'll stay for the group photos. Where is Aaron anyway?" she asked as I handed the device back to her.

Where is Aaron?

"Uhmm—" He's seeing the doctors. Right.

"Liv?" I heard a familiar voice belonging to someone I could lean on, accompanied by an arm circling me. "Mind if I steal her, please?" Sadie asked the girls, who gave their polite go-ahead.

She pulled me through the guests and into a secluded area. "You look pale; you need your makeup rearranged. The pictures are starting soon. Where is Aaron?" she also asked.

I felt like a ghost in a world of souls, staring past her in search of a clue for my mission.

"You've seen my dad?" My voice bled with fear, croaky as I choked on my emotions.

"Uhm—saw him with, uh... Aaron's uncles walk through the doors next to the orchestra. Are you okay?" she asked concernedly, holding both my hands in hers.

There was no time to explain. All I knew was that if I didn't get him out of there, it would be a mess in no time. The photo crews and various media representatives are present—my family would be publicly humiliated in the next publication on every site. "We need to find him," I said urgently, rushing back into the ballroom as she followed.

Aiming for the giant doors, I was blocked by Kathleen, who appeared out of nowhere and delayed my plans.

This has to be a setup.

The little blood I had left went cold, and my stomach dropped at the sight of the two-faced woman.

"Where are you going?" she asked, reaching for my arm. I subtly dodged her touch, making it seem unintentional.

I don't want her touching me, I don't want her near me.

"To the kitchen to get my overskirt," I lied immediately, forcing courage into my voice, feeling the heat of Sadie's gaze on my side.

"What took your belongings to the kitchen?" the woman I currently despise scolded. I chose not to respond to her snobbish behavior as she continued, "The staff should have already handled that. Go to your room. You need your makeup redone and a change of outfit for the pictures. We don't want too many guests waiting at the photo station."

This time, there was no escape. She placed a hand firmly behind me, redirecting my path. The touch, which I was hyper-aware, triggered feelings of discomfort, disgust, and uneasiness toward the insincere woman.

I need to find Dad.

"Should I go find him for you?" Sadie whispered from my other side. I was about to nod, but my wandering eyes spotted Dad walking back into the ballroom alongside Sadie's father and two unfamiliar older men.

"I need to see my father and then will be up there," I let out, not caring if it was convincing enough, I started ahead, but Kathleen's grip stopped me, making me turn to face her.

"We are out of time," she chided.

Yes, this is surely a setup.

"I said I'm going to my father," I grumbled, low enough to avoid being overheard but harsh enough for her to get the hint and back off.

My legs carried me toward the happiest man, laughing with a group of friends he made.

He must think all his plans for me are finally working out. He was carefree from relief that I was happy.

"What was that?" Sadie asked, clearly confused but still following me.

"I must get my Dad out of here," I repeated as I reached the table, drawing the attention of the older men.

Smiling miserably, a smile that undoubtedly betrayed its fakeness, I took hold of Dad's arm while Sadie gaped at me with furrowed brows. "Hello, I really need a minute with my dad, if that's okay with you."

The men all responded, "Of course, sure," giving me a sigh of relief.

If we're lucky, Mom is still outside, waiting for the valet to bring the car. We can leave here altogether, with those two devils plans failing.

Eagerly, I pulled him toward the exit door, indifferent to the curious gazes at my desperation. Dad must have sensed my anxiety, but he played along until we were outside in the open air, where the people were few compared to inside, as it was mostly guards.

"What's wrong, Bug? Is Bubble okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

I glanced at the driveway. The beat-up truck was heading toward us. Mom had the car.

Perfect.

"We're going with Mom," I said decisively.

His brows furrowed as he observed me. Now isn't really the time. I tugged at his hand, but he only spoke, "Why? Your mother said she can handle it. You should continue with your day. He'll be fine."

"Dad, you need to leave," I said, not very subtly, as I signaled to Mom to stop.

He held me back by the hand, clearly needing more explanation for my behavior. "What's wrong with you?" he asked as I glanced over at him while Mom parked, waving eagerly for us, probably to avoid wasting time because of Bubble.

Screw it.

"Beaumont is here," I blurted out, hoping that would be enough to get him moving so we could take my son to the hospital.

"Okay?" His confusion deepened. "What's that got to do with anything?"

The urge to facepalm was strong, but I wouldn't find peace until the family was secured in a moving car.

"Dad, just go," I almost yelled, my breath quickening.

"Bug?" He cupped my face, and my eyes closed as I leaned in, the tears I had been holding back slipping free. "Bug, dear, what's wrong?" he pleaded, and Mom honked the horn, urging my eyes open.

I looked over. She had Bubble resting on her chest, signaling that we were wasting time with the little boy in her arms.

"Let's go," I hurried, pulling Dad.

"Okay," he acquiesced with a sigh, following my lead toward our truck, which was interrupted by a haunting loudness.

"ANTHONY KELBY!" The call was so sharp it felt like it crashed into my bones. Dad must have felt it too; he rubbed the back of my hand for reassurance.

No!

While I was in a bubble of panic, Dad was merely confused as to why his name was being blasted. He rotated us in our station, and there was Charles Beaumont, already gathering attention with his unnecessary aggression.

"Dad, let's go." I pleaded, pulling at my father's arm, but he resisted this time, his forehead wrinkled, now sporting the understanding of why I had been acting differently, as he watched Beaumont, whose face bore the fury of a madman.

"Where the hell is my money?" Beaumont yelled again, charging at us. I instinctively stood before Dad as camera flashes began to go off and people poured out from the entrance door.

No!

"What?" Dad was utterly confounded, managing to push me aside from the brute advancing toward us. Dad knew their agreement was for next spring, and it was goddamn summer, but little did he know Cynthia decided she had no class and left her business for ours.

Before I could grasp everything, my dad was being choked by the collar and slapped by a man who couldn't stand by his words, or rather, the cheap corrupted man on a filthy platter that was bought.

I knew Beaumont was an animal, but I never thought he would go this far.

"I want my payment right now," he growled, saliva spitting out.

"What are you talking about? We had our arrangement," Dad rushed, struggling against Beaumont's grip around his neck, as he processed the attack.

"You're going to deny owing me? Is that what we're doing now? You're a thief, Kelby. I will make sure your ass is thrown into prison, you ungrateful rat," he spat angrily, throwing a punch that sent my dad stumbling, blood spilling from his nose.

My eyes widened with dread. I rushed after Beaumont, who dashed toward my dad, aiming for another blow. I managed to obstruct him, gripping his arm with all my might. "Leave him alone," I choked out, but he roughly shrugged me off. The next few seconds were a blur, but when I recovered from the shock, I was on the ground, with agonizing pain in my spine. Before me, two older men were beating each other. One was my father and the other was a man fighting for the family of the man I love.

There were too many flashes, people gasping, and eyes staring back at me. My dad was fighting back.

Startled, I flinched as I became aware of hands brushing my hair and back.

"Come on, get up," they said, helping me with their strength.

Dumbfounded, I looked around to find Mom holding me in the middle, with Sadie on my other side.

Then it dawned on me that Bubble was left in the car.

"Adam, Lloyd, what are you doing? Stop this madness right now," a familiar commanding voice ordered. It was one of Aaron's male cousins, but I was running, everything seizing in my hearing and sight.

I got into the car, anxiously wiping Bubble's small, sweaty face as he lay on the bench unmoving.

"Hey, hey?"

Quiet.

"Bubble?" I cried out, trying to hold back my panic.

Quiet.

"Okay, okay, okay." I need to get us to the hospital.

The next thirty minutes were a blank phase of my life, a period I have frayed fragmented memories of, corresponding to the void in my chest. The horns were jarring, I drove at top speed, and I sang nonsensical songs so Bubble could hear me.

Blue and red lights flashing.

Then the nurses arrived, transferring my boy to a stretcher.

"Get the monitors." "I'm fixing an IV." All the voices were full of panic and urgency.

Bubble eyes partly open during the time. That was hope, even if only a little, but it was hope. He clung to my hand, I felt it in my soul.

One of the nurses kept asking him about his pain level, and I watched him until he lifted eight fingers—four from each hand—before his eyes fell shut again.

There have been times when he lifted higher than that, but what made this difficult was that the pain had been a tenant in him for so long. He suffered today, and I feared our late arrival had tortured and drained him. I delayed. I fucking delayed saving my son.

"Bubble, it will be okay," I repeated, largely for myself, as guilt was eating on my inside.

We ran, pushing that stretcher as if our lives depended on it—my life depended on it. We all moved at a fast pace until I was stopped, and the double doors closed in my face, with my boy inside and the voices of doctors trying to save him.

I know hell; I could write a full book about its taste.

***

"Hey?" I felt a tap on my shoulder.

Cowering in a curve against the wall, my knees pulled to my chest and my face buried in my arms, I was devastated by the weight of fear and pain. It had been two hours with no news. The doors had been closed for so long, leaving my heart deflated and unable to revive.

"Bug? Aaron is outside."

I shrugged off Dad's touch, enough to tell that I didn't want to speak with anyone.

"Okay, you don't have to do anything," I heard him say from above me as he stood up from his squat.

A few seconds later, arms wrapped around me. I didn't lift my head, but I knew it was Sadie; I was aware of her presence.