The dishes clink as I rinse them and stick them in the dishwasher, humming happily. Cameron is being discharged tomorrow, and he is trying to convince his dad to let him go to school on Monday. We haven’t discussed if we are going to announce that we are together or not. I’m leaning towards waiting for Angela to have the paternity test. I want to avoid unwanted attention if I can and seeing as dating Cameron will already be front-page news, we should probably wait until we know for sure if the baby is his. “Faith?” my mom says, startling me. “Geez! Mom, you scared me.” I chuckle at her, and she smiles warmly.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She pauses. “We need to have a chat.” “Ok…?” Conversations go downhill when they start like this. “It’s about Mia.” “About how Aunt Serenity signed her parental rights away and you want to adopt her?” I feel relieved that it’s about Mia. “Ah, she already told you then

Much to my relief, I hear a door open and slam behind me as someone runs over. I turn and look at my dad. And for the first time in a very long time, I am relieved to see his worried face. “Dad, please help me,” I beg him, looking down at a now unconscious Cameron. The desperation in my voice snaps Dad out of his concerned state, and he swoops down to check on Cameron. There is no way the two of us can carry him. I am strong, but I refuse to risk dropping him in his already injured state. Dad jumps up from evaluating him and slowly we lower him to the ground.  “Stay here, I’m going to grab the nurse and call for an ambulance.” And he runs off. I scoot my lap under Cameron's head and as gently as I can; I stroke his hair and try to talk to him. I know when he first came out of the coma; he said he could hear everything the surrounding people were saying. The thought of him worrying about me when he is like this makes my heart clench

“I didn’t-” He says taken aback but the strong word. “John, I will ask you to answer this question without denying her feelings. What she witnessed was hatred, whether you meant for that or not, it’s what she received.” Dr. Bricks interrupts. Dad drops his head, ashamed. He rubs the back of his neck before he looks up and offers me an answer. “When I was drunk, I was possessive and mean. You were a distraction for your mother, from me. Before she would leave for work, she would remind me of what to do like I was some unprepared child. I resented you because you meant I couldn’t have fun. I could tell that she didn’t trust me with you, early on it was probably just made up in my head but alcohol alters your ability to think coherently. They were all made up of drunken assessments because it’s where my mind went, I was projecting my own thoughts as hers and it

*Cameron POV* When I was naive, and not on what feels like militant bed rest, I used to think the best birthday gift in the world would be to sleep all day, get breakfast in bed. Maybe play some video games, go for a jog and probably buy myself a birthday present because no one ever really cared about what I wanted. They just cared that it was expensive.  Now, as a fresh young man, brand new to the realm of adulthood, I loathe the idea of being in bed a second longer. Spending my 18th birthday like this is a real freaking downer. I’ve literally been force-fed food every turn I make for days. One minute it's grandma, the next it’s my dad. Faith sneaks me sweet little treats that she bakes, and gosh do I love her, but she’s a terrible baker. I mean, absolutely atrocious.  “Cameron.” My dad says standing a

Each blip on the monitor is a reminder that she is still here, still fighting. It’s been a whirlwind since we arrived. Flurries of medical personnel bustle in and out checking vitals, changing liquids, offering water for Faith, dad, and me. She had a stroke, that’s what the doctor said. He said extreme stress brought it on.  I rode here with her in the ambulance. I just knew she would wake up if I left her alone for even a minute, and I couldn’t miss that. Yet she still hasn’t opened her eyes or even squeezed my hand. I know she will recover. It doesn’t take a medical genius to know that she is just too amazing to leave me. She would never do that to me.  Faith walks up behind me and snakes her hands over my shoulder, hugging my back and giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, how are you doing?” she whispers. The heat of her breath tickles my ears as I turn slightly to see her face. She looks exhausted and stunning. How