SERAPHINA’S POV
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and boiled linen, a sharp, sterile scent that clawed at my nerves the moment I stepped through the sliding glass doors—and was bombarded with painful memories of the last time I was called to a parent’s hospital room.
Kieran tentatively laid a hand on my elbow when I halted just a few feet from the entrance, trying to catch my breath.
“Sera.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, unnervingly kind. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
I shook my head, stepping out of his reach. We’d spent the entire trip back in our tentative truce bubble, and I didn’t want him to think that now that we were back in California, it had evaporated.
As much as I didn’t want to face the prospect of my possibly dying mother alone, I didn’t want to have to lean on Kieran.
Especially since he wasn’t there to lean on when my father died.
“I’m fine,” I said quietly, before heading towards the nurse’s station.
