Thankfully, it appeared to have been a mild crash or she would’ve been knocked out instead of talking to me, but still.

I smoothed a hand over her hair, my heart squeezing at how fine and delicate it felt. She was so young, and she’d already been through so much.

“But I’m okay.” Pen’s eyes drifted closed before she opened them again, her small face filled with determination. She always resisted sleeping when we saw each other. The selfish part of me was thankful for the extra time; the anxious part worried it made her crashes worse. “Annie took me here just in case…”

I could guess why they’d put her in a private room so soon. My father had donated an entire wing to the hospital years ago.

“Where’s Annie now?” I asked.

“I don’t know. She got fired.” Pen looked down. “Rhea left her niece’s baby shower early to see me.”

“Because she cares about you. We all do,” I said gently.

I glanced at the bandage again. It was a relatively minor injury, but even minor injuries could have intense effects on people with CFS. The recovery took longer, and the pain could intensify their symptoms.

“Do Mom and Dad know you’re here?” Pen’s eyes were closing again.

“Not yet.” Dread punctured my relief at the thought of confronting them.

“I’m glad you came. They’ll…” Her voice faded into nothing, and she was out.

I lingered for a minute, savoring our last moments together. Pen and I had both changed since I left my family years ago.

We were older, somewhat wiser, and more cognizant of what we were dealing with when it came to George and Caroline. But in some ways, we were the same—still trapped by our circumstances, still helpless to change them.

The adrenaline from Rhea’s call dissipated, leaving me with cold, hard clarity. The second I stepped into the hall, George and Caroline would know I’d been secretly seeing Pen. The only way I could’ve gotten here so quickly was if Rhea had contacted me, and the only reason I’d come so quickly was because I loved Pen. Considering she’d been four during our last known-to-them contact, it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out we’d kept in touch over the years.

Maybe I’d get lucky. Maybe George and Caroline wouldn’t make a big deal out of it, and they wouldn’t fire Rhea or lock Pen somewhere I couldn’t get to her out of spite.

Yeah, and maybe Satan will repent and give up ruling the underworld to become an elf in Santa’s workshop.

I was tempted to hide in Pen’s room and wait for my family to leave before I slipped out, but from what I could see through the door window, that wasn’t happening anytime soon. It would be infinitely worse if someone came in and found me skulking around.

I was a lot of things, but I wasn’t a coward. Whatever the consequences were, I’d deal with them. I only hoped I could shield Rhea from the brunt of the impact. She’d told me about Pen’s hospitalization knowing I would show up and she’d probably get fired. She’d done it because she knew Pen would want to see me, and she didn’t deserve to be let go over a moment of empathy.

I steeled myself, walked to the exit, and opened the door.

However, I barely crossed the threshold before I came to a dead halt.

George, Caroline, and Rhea weren’t the only people outside Pen’s room anymore. The nurse was gone, and a slim, perfectly groomed blond stood next to my father and stepmother. Beside her, a handsome man with brown hair and blue eyes looked around with a bored expression.

This time, there was no sneaking past them. Their conversation fell silent as the door shut behind me, and my four (ex) family members gaped at me with varying expressions of shock, disbelief, and confusion.

“Well,” the blond said, recovering first. “This is a surprise.”

I suppressed a flinch. Her voice, lovely as it was, had the effect of burrowing into my skin and peeling the scabs off old wounds. Seeing him was worse. It was like having a Mack truck from the past blindside me from behind and send me flying.

They were the only people who could still make me feel inferior and insignificant.

My sister Georgia and Bentley—her husband, my brother-in-law…and my ex-fiancé.

CHAPTER 24

Sloane

The harsh glare of fluorescent lights painted the hall in stark whites and shadows. Shoes squeaked, medical staff hurried past, and the smell of disinfectant clouded the air.

None of that affected Georgia, who looked like a modern Grace Kelly who’d just stepped out of the pages of Vogue.

“Don’t tell me you called yourself Penny’s family at the front desk so they’d let you up,” she said. “That’s a tad ironic, isn’t it?”

Her skin glowed in a way that shouldn’t be possible beneath the unflattering lighting. She wasn’t showing yet, and her cashmere sweater and Italian wool slacks fit her Pilates-toned figure like they were custom-made (which they likely were). A four-carat heirloom diamond dazzled from her ring finger.

It was the same ring Bentley had proposed to me with.

Acid gnawed at my gut, but I met Georgia’s gaze with contempt. “Pen is family,” I said. “She was four at the time. She shouldn’t be held responsible for the poor decisions made by adults in her life.” “Penelope is a Kensington,” Caroline said coldly. “You are no longer a Kensington in anything but name, which means she’s not your family. You have no right to be here.”

“That’s rich coming from someone who pretends she doesn’t exist half the time.” I returned her glare with a chilly smile. “Don’t stay too long, Caroline, or people might mistake you for an actual mother.”

“You little—”

“Caroline.” My father placed a hand on her arm, reining her in. “Don’t.”

My stepmother sucked in a deep breath and touched the strand of diamonds around her neck. Her glare didn’t ease, but she didn’t finish her attack either.

George turned to me, his expression unreadable, and pieces of my bravado melted away like iron tossed into a fire.

It was our first face-to-face encounter since our estrangement. If seeing Bentley was akin to getting hit by a truck, seeing my father was like getting trapped in the sands of time. Every shift of grain evoked a different memory.

The timbre of his voice as we walked through Central Park Zoo for my seventh birthday and he pointed out the different animals to me.

The proud smile on his face when I was presented at my debutante ball.

The shock when I told him I was starting my own PR firm instead of settling down and popping out babies like I “should.”

The defensiveness when I accused Georgia and Bentley of sleeping together behind my back, the fury when I refused to “take their relationship in stride” and give them my blessing, and finally, the utter coldness when he gave me his ultimatum.

If you walk out that door, there’s no coming back.

The weight of our history crushed my lungs. Emotions surged through me in a jumble of old anger and fresh nostalgia, and it took everything I had not to turn and run away like the coward I prided myself on not being.

I’d had many years to imagine what our first post-estrangement meeting would be like. They ranged from ignoring one other (most plausible) to a tearful, joyful reunion (least plausible).

Confronting each other outside my sister’s hospital room after she’d almost died was so implausible that it landed fully outside that range.

“Sloane.” My father might as well be talking to his driver, for all the emotion he showed. “How did you know Penelope was here?”