That night, Sophia curled up in Lucas's arms.
When the phone rang, she fumbled for it and answered groggily.
"Hello?"
"Sophia! Your father is coughing up blood!"
She blinked, barely awake. "Oh? He's coughing blood?"
"Yes! Come right now!" Susan's shrill voice nearly pierced the receiver.
Sophia hung up and tossed her phone onto the nightstand.
Lucas lowered his head slightly. "Who was that?"
"Susan. Apparently Andrew's spitting blood and they want me there."
Not even a flicker of interest crossed her face.
"Are you going?"
"To hell I am. It's like three in the morning. They're really committed to this little performance, huh? Middle of the night and I'm supposed to rush over? If he's coughing blood… let him keep coughing."
Lucas let out a soft breath and tightened his arms around her.
Silence returned to the room—until thirty minutes later.
The phone blared again.
