Page 80 of Burn of Obsidian

His hand pressed gently against her back, as if urging her forward.

Thea felt like she held a weight, each step agonising as she entered the sterile space. The nurse smiled at her when she hesitated at the foot of the bed, politely leaving while Thea struggled to find the right words. Guilt was like lead in her stomach, making it hard to breathe.

“Hey kiddo, come sit down.” Dad patted the sheet beside him, but Thea dropped herself into the seat instead. Tubes and wires were stuck to different parts of his body, his face seeming to have aged overnight.

“Dad…” Her voice broke, so she cleared it. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d stopped the treatment?”

He huffed out a laugh, his hand shaking when he reached over to grip hers. “Once you set your mind to something, kiddo, you don’t drop it.” He shook his head, clearly amused. “You get that from your mother.”

Thea laughed, the sound wet.

“There comes a time where we have to say enough is enough.” His hand squeezed. “We can’t stop the inevitable, even though we wished we could.”

“It’s not fair.” Her tears burned, stinging in their trace. “You should have had years.”

“Life isn’t fair, kiddo. We both know this.” His smile was soft, which only brought the tears harder. “Finding you in that cage was one of the best days of my life. You want to know why?”

Thea had heard him say it thousands of times, and just like the first, she listened eagerly.

“Because you were our baby girl. It didn’t matter that you’re not from us, or that you were even the same Breed. No, because you completed us in a way we never knew we needed.”

Each word was agonisingly slow, but she was happy to wait. Just to have another moment with the man that had saved her. Who’d brought her up as if she was his. Who’d taught her to ride her first bike. Who’d told her she could be anything she wanted to be.

“Then your mother had Molly, and then later Rosey. I honestly didn’t know how I could hold so much love, and it was you, my little bundle of sunshine, that taught me I could. You’ve always found the best in every situation.” He tried to sit up, struggled so Thea scooted to the edge of the seat. “Which is why I won’t have you sitting by my bedside, waiting morbidly for my death.”

“Dad – ”

“No,” he interrupted. “And don’t worry, your sisters have been banned, too. We’re all dying, kiddo. Mine is just coming a little earlier than expected, and just because my life stops, doesn’t mean yours does, too.”

Thea snorted out a laugh. “Only you would ban us from your deathbed.”

“Damn straight.” He grinned, and it was a flash of her father from when she was a little girl. Before he was diagnosed. “When the time comes, I’m sure your mother will call. She’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. You get that from her, too.”

Thea let out a sob; the words caught in her throat. “I’m so – ”

“Don’t you dare apologise. I won’t have it.” His expression was serious, his fingers shaking in hers. “Your heart is so big. It’s why I asked your mother not to say anything, and also why I know that you’ll be alright.”

Thea caught the next cry, her heart aching.

“Just remember when I’m gone, that there’s always a rainbow at the end of a storm. So, you get your tears now, but this feeling’s not forever.”

She was sure if she’d been standing, her knees would have buckled, the pain so sharp it was like a wave throughout her body. She knew it would come eventually, her father having been fighting the battle for as long as she could remember. But she didn’t want to believe it would be so soon. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t think she could ever be ready.

Trying to hide the tears, she turned to the little window, swallowing the sobs so her dad didn’t have to experience her sorrow. Jax stood there, a strong force that nodded to whatever her mum was saying. As if sensing her, he met her gaze through the glass, and the pain that had been sinking its sharp nails into her chest somehow lessened. Just a little.

“Bring him in,” her dad demanded, his voice an agonising croak.

“Dad, it’s okay – ”

“Please,” he said, giving her hand one last squeeze. “And this time let him talk. I’d like to actually meet the man who looks at my daughter like she’s the sun.”

Chapter 30

Jax

Jax had never heard Thea so quiet, her usual effervescence weighted beneath grief. He’d had to practically carry her from her father’s room, the nurse kicking everyone out so Ayden could get some rest.

She’d barely spoken since, not when he’d put her in the car, or even now as he opened the door to her flat. Reaper perked up as they stepped inside, tail swishing. But for once, he didn’t scream for attention, as if sensing his person’s despair.