I sit, nodding once. “I can try.”
A flicker of something almost amused crosses his face. “It took you two weeks to find her,” he says. There’s no accusation in his tone. Just fact.
I nod again. “These places are private for a reason.”
“And yet here you are.”
“In the end, I didn’t use legal channels,” I admit.
His gaze sharpens. “Are you here because of the baby?”
It’s a loaded question, and I take a minute before finally admitting the truth out loud. “I’m here for both of them,” I say.
He leans back in his chair, studying me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m worth anything at all. “My girl’s been through enough,” he says. “I won’t watch her get hurt again.”
I nod. “I understand.”
“Do you?” he challenges lightly. “Because from what I’ve been told, you walked away pretty easily.”
I swallow.It wasn’t easy.But I don’t defend it because he’d never understand.
“She’s got it in her head she’s cursed,” he continues. “She even told the doctor that everyone she loves dies. She wouldn’t let me visit at first because she thought I’d be next.”
The pain in my heart intensifies. “Is she getting better?” I ask, my voice quieter now.
“A little,” he says. “Therapy. Group sessions. They’re getting her eating again. It’s slow, but it’s progress.”
Relief mixes with something else.
Fear.
“Will seeing me set her back?” I ask, because that matters more than anything.
He shrugs slightly. “The nurse has gone to ask her therapist.” Then his eyes lock onto mine. “But before I let you anywhere near her,” he says, “I need to know what you want.”
I drag a hand over the back of my neck, something I haven’t done since I was a kid standing in front of someone I didn’t want to disappoint.
“I don’t have some grand plan,” I admit. “I just . . . I haven’t slept properly since I found out where she was. I can’t stop thinking about her.”It’s the truth.“I fell in love with her,” I add, the words feeling unfamiliar in my mouth. “And I walked away because I was grieving and hurting. Angry at everyone. I thought it was the right thing to do.” I let out a breath. “It wasn’t.”
Silence stretches between us.
“If she doesn’t want to see me,” I say, forcing the words out, “if she hates me . . . I’ll leave. I won’t make this harder for her.”Even if it kills me.“I’ll let her decide.”
He watches me for a long moment. Measuring, weighing me up.
“And if she wants you to stay?” he asks.
The question shouldn’t be hard, but it is. Because staying means risking everything I’ve always avoided.
“I will,” I say finally. “I’ll stay. For her. For the baby.”
Something shifts in his expression. It’s not quite approval. But it’s not rejection either.
The nurse returns with a small, careful smile. “The therapist said to give it a try. We’ll have to monitor from another room. There’s a glass privacy window.”
I glance at Wynter’s father, who gives a slight nod. I inhale sharply then follow the nurse, each step feeling heavier than the last.
She stops outside a door and gestures towards the small circular window.