Chapter 1: Beaten Paths-Charlie-Prologue

Hospitals do their best to be nice places. They keep the lobbies scrubbed, arrange leather furniture around fake hearths, and add little gardens to their walkways, but it is all still largely for the visitors. The cafés with their warm-coffee smells at the entrance, the small gift shops with fuzzy bears and big red hearts, and the fountains full of wishful pennies don't do anything for the people inside. Just like everyone else, I'd stopped to grab a snack before facing whatever lie upstairs.

People latch onto anything that allows them to forget the pain and misery while paying their respect. Everyone wants a distraction. No one chooses to think about what is going on a few floors above their heads. The patients are the ones who have to live with the buzz of bright fluorescent lights, the sanitized and sterile smell, and the constant hum of electronics. That is why no one likes hospitals. When a patient is there for the long haul, they are left staring at a white wall with their stomachs in knots, thinking about what will come next. Meanwhile, their families and friends are in the lobby, chugging lattes and wishing them the best.

Not that I had strong opinions.

I wasn't one hundred percent certain whether Jack would be at the hospital or not. But it was as good a bet as any. He was a difficult man to pin down, in general, and even more so these days. For good reason-not that any of us blamed him. But I couldn't seem to catch him at home, so it was easier to show up at the hospital. It was the one safe bet for finding him.

I had just finished my snack-the saltiness didn't bring nearly the pleasure I'd hoped it would before trudging down the hospital halls. I crumpled up the yellow-foil bag that had contained roughly a handful of chips and shoved it into a trashcan. I hated that I was as familiar with this place as I'd become in recent weeks, but I knew where Sarah's room was by heart at this point. I hated walking down the long white halls. Each noise I made seemed to amplify in the empty corridors, and I felt like an organism under a microscope, not that people were staring. It was quite the opposite; the halls tended to be rather vacant. Every now and then I'd pass a doctor or a patient. But for the most part, it was just one long, empty stretch after another. Grey door after grey door, surrounded by endless feet of white drywall. Somehow, I managed to miss the little gardens on my path to Sarah's room-no glimpses of flowers through the odd window, only flat concrete.

It was truly depressing. I tried to ignore it, and I kept walking toward Sarah's room. I didn't really know her, even though we'd grown up in the same small town and gone to school together our entire lives. However, the two of us hadn't run in the same crowd, and I was closer to her younger sister than her. Coming here to talk business seemed like an invasion, but her dad needed my help with his cattle ranch while she was here, and I needed his answers to my questions.

There was no Jack Adams in her room. There was only Sarah.

She sat alone. If I had to guess, I'd bet that her dad had been there but had already left for whatever reason. Personally, I couldn't imagine what it would be like to leave my little girl alone after all she'd been through. It must have killed him to do it every time he had to step foot out these doors.

Sarah sat with one leg propped up on the edge of the mattress and the other hanging off. I assumed that to be a good sign. There'd been so many days that were touch and go that just seeing her off all the machines was positive. She reached down and stuffed her small hands under her thigh, moving her leg to prop it up next to the other one. It took effort, and I stood mesmerized by the willpower and determination she must possess to get through this. I wanted to help, but I wasn't sure how. I just stood frozen in the doorway. She hadn't seen me, and I wondered how long I could wait before it became too awkward for me to make my presence known.

She lifted her hand to her face and dragged her fingers across her nose. While I couldn't see her expression, there was no denying the tears that streaked her cheeks. Maybe she had been crying the whole time I'd watched her. A tear clung to the tip of her nose while others dripped from her jaw, but she hadn't made a sound. She did her best to keep her emotions under control, even when she believed she was alone. Her shoulders rose with each deep breath she took in what I assumed to be an effort to calm down, but every inhalation made her shudder, and her entire body shook.

I wanted to say something-needed to-but I wasn't sure where to begin. Part of me felt ashamed. I shouldn't be witnessing this extremely private moment. The other part of me felt guilty. There wasn't anything I could do to ease her pain. Another small part of me wanted to comfort her. Even knowing that I couldn't stop the discomfort or the struggle she faced, there had to be something I could do that was better than lurking in the hallway.

When I finally stepped into the room, Sarah lifted her head as I crossed the threshold. She immediately dragged her sleeve across her face, soaking up the tears with the arm of her cardigan. Her tiny hands furiously blotted a tissue beneath her lashes. I couldn't discern whether her expression was a scowl or something else akin to mildly distressed-but whatever it was, it obviously hurt. Sarah cleared her emotion and returned to the blank slate I'd become accustomed to seeing.

I rapped my fist on the doorframe despite the fact that she'd seen me staring. "Can I come in?" I slid my hands into my pockets as I waited and tried to keep my posture relaxed, inviting. I didn't want her to think that I was just walking in on her most vulnerable moment because I could.

Sarah nodded ever so slightly. "Of course, please." There wasn't a rude bone in the girl's body. It didn't matter how much pain she was in; she'd keep up the Southern demeanor of small-town Texas because that's how she'd been raised.

I didn't miss the way she flinched when she touched the tissue she'd used on her eyes to the angry red scars on her face. It appeared incredibly painful and tight, but I didn't know her well enough to ask and needed to stop staring.

I tried not to read too deeply into the meek tone in which she'd invited me in. It didn't take a genius to see that now wasn't an opportune time for company, but there was a reason for my visit. And while it wasn't Sarah, I did need to find Jack.

"Sorry to barge in. I was just looking for your dad." I tried to appear properly chagrined for my intrusion. I couldn't shake the feeling that she would rather be left alone.

Sarah hid her face, deliberately avoiding eye contact. "He isn't here." Even her swallow appeared labored. "If you hurry, you may be able to catch him at home."

I nodded, but I didn't leave. My feet were bolted to the ground, and something compelled me to stay. My boots were rooted in place, preventing me from leaving or moving closer.

"Is that all?" Her words broke the spell. They cut through the tension that lingered between us like a knife, but instead of pushing me back, they drew me a little closer.

The only time I'd ever seen something so fragile and defeated had been an animal in a trap. Sarah appeared to have lost her will to fight, and I had an overwhelming urge to pull her into my arms. Something in me wanted to whisper into her ear that she'd be all right, that everything would be okay. But despite just how downtrodden she appeared or how heavy her shoulders seemed, I wasn't the person to bring her hope.

"Yeah." I didn't want it to be, but I sounded like an idiot to my own ears. My mind raced to find something to talk about, something to lift her spirits, but I stood there like a mute. I couldn't imagine what she thought of me. "Are you doing okay?" That was brilliant.

She didn't respond other than to swallow hard. The tears welled up again. I could see them getting caught in her throat as she tried to swallow them down, fight them back. She bit her bottom lip and lowered her head, closing her eyes. The tears beaded on her lashes and then streaked down her cheeks.

I might not be great at offering comfort or support, but I couldn't stand to see a woman cry. "Hey." That one word lifted my feet from where I stood, and I moved to sit next to her on the hospital bed.

I took a seat on the mattress not too far away from her but not close enough to make her uncomfortable, either. Sarah grabbed her thigh and shifted her leg toward her to create space for me.

She rolled her lips into her mouth and waved a hand in front of her face. "I'm not trying to make a scene. Daddy would be so embarrassed for you to see me this way." It wasn't a bid for pity.