Author's Note: First off, I apologize for the long break. This chapter was really difficult for me for some strange reason. I couldn't quite figure out how I wanted time to flow and every draft I made just didn't sound right. Normally I am able to sit down for a couple of hours and just write it all out, but this time it was different. I know I said it would all be from Sandy and Ryan's point of view, but I wanted this to be in there somewhere. I yearned for a moment like this in the show, but it never really happened. Anyways, this chapter is from Kirsten's point of view. There isn't a whole lot of Ryan interaction, but there is a small flashback and I think it is worth a read. I know many of you skip my chapters until the Ryan parts, but I really hope you read this. Please REVIEW like always and tell me how I did. I am looking for a bit of flattery or a bit of criticism if that is what you think.

Three days. It had been three whole days since Kirsten's life, her family's life, had been turned upside down by a phone call. It seemed strange to her that such a simple event, such a common occurrence could cause such turmoil. She felt like everyone she loved was dangling over a giant precipice and she was the only keeping them all from falling. She was drained, but she couldn't rest. Exhausted, but she couldn't sleep.

She spent most of her days at the hospital with Sandy. He had called her two days earlier, breathless with excitement, and proudly told her that Ryan had responded to his voice. Ever since that moment her husband had refused to leave Ryan's side. Like a baby bird imprints on the first creature it sees after it hatches, Sandy wanted to be the first thing Ryan saw when he finally woke from his forced slumber. He had cheered and celebrated every twitch of Ryan's fingers, every flicker of movement behind his eyelids. Doctor Woodruff seemed positive that Ryan would wake soon only fueling Sandy's need to remain at his side.

Kirsten understood her husband's need. She understood the incredibly strong connection he shared with Ryan and the excitement of knowing he would live through his ordeal. She understood, but she worried. Sandy was not superman and he'd worn himself ragged with worry, with desperation and hope. She could see the dark circles beneath her husband's eyes, rings of exhaustion that made him look haggard and old. She had begged him to go home and get some sleep, but he'd refused.

So, she stayed with him during the day, picked up Seth from Summer's or Anna's house, and went home to spend her evening with her son. She wanted to draw comfort from the normalcy of home, but she couldn't. There was no home without Sandy, without Ryan. Everything seemed wrong somehow, fake, as if she were the only real person in a land of fantasy. Only, her fantasy world wasn't really a fantasy world at all. It was a nightmare. There were no rainbows and unicorns for Kirsten Cohen. There was only worry, only heartache.

Of course, life cared very little for her sorrows. It carried on like it always would whether Kirsten liked it or not. There were so many things she needed to take care of, so many things that stood in the way of peaceful sleep. She had begun to clean out one of their extra bedrooms of the various keepsakes and valuables they had stored in it over the years. She and Sandy had agreed that Ryan would need to have a room in the house while he healed and, perhaps, even after. Kirsten didn't know how long Ryan would be in the hospital, but she wanted to have it ready for him.

The police had taken up a great deal of her time to. They had been in and out over the last couple of days, Office Ortega more than most. They had spoken to Trey and, true to his word, the young man had confessed to who was most likely behind Ryan's shooting. Too much time had passed since the crime, however, and when the police arrived to take Munoz in for questioning he was nowhere to be found. Oretga had told her that they had a few leads, but none were very promising. What he hadn't told her was that a crew of investigators would be showing up at her door with a search warrant to search Ryan's room for evidence that he was involved in the chop shop operation Munoz was running.

She had watched them search his room, tears of bitterness and fury drying on her cheeks. It hadn't taken them long. Ryan had only a few possessions when he had become a member of their family and even though Kirsten had offered to buy him whatever he wanted for the pool house he had refused her. She was quite sure that Ryan could still fit whatever belongings he had in the small duffle bag he'd brought with him that first night. Ortega had looked uncomfortable, leaning against one of the back walls as his men carried out their orders. Kirsten had wanted to take out all her fury and sorrow on the man, but she couldn't. She knew he was only doing what he was supposed to do, but it saddened her to know that, even as a victim, Ryan was still a worthy candidate for suspicion.

Even more tiring was the Newpie reaction to her son's injury. It hadn't taken them all long to discover that the 'Cohen's little charity case' had gotten himself seriously wounded. Kirsten was positive that Julie Cooper had made the rounds and had told everyone some ridiculous story that would inevitably portray Ryan as the bad guy, the gangster from Chino. Every time the doorbell rang Kirsten would answer it with the sunniest smile, making sure she took every fake casserole, every spurious condolence with the cheeriest disposition she could muster. Most of the time she wanted to slap the simpering looks of pity from their stupid, tanned faces, but the less fuel she gave them the better.

Then there was her father. Caleb Cohen seemed unburdened by her newest son's medical crisis. In fact, he seemed irritated that Ryan's injury was keeping Kirsten from her work. She had called him to take some time off, expecting concern or, at the very least, understanding, but she had received neither.

"I don't understand why this is your responsibility, Kiki," he had told her gruffly. "The child has a mother, does he not?"

"Yes," Kirsten said slowly. "But, she left him, Dad. He's a part of our family now. We love—"

"Please tell me you have at least contacted her to help with paying for all this," Caleb interrupted. "This sort of thing isn't cheap, Kiki. You would be foolish to not collect some sort of payment from her."

"Dad," Kirsten whispered. "Please…why are you doing this?"

"I am protecting you," Caleb told her gruffly.

"From what?" Kirsten questioned. "From Ryan? He isn't what you think he is, Dad. He's a great kid and if you just got know him then—"

"He's a thief, Kiki. A no-good scoundrel that will pick you dry if you give him half the chance."

Kirsten had wanted to argue with him, to force her father to see what a fool he was being, but she was too exhausted to even try. She had merely told Caleb that she would not be in for work trying to ignore the disdain in his voice. After she had hung up the phone she had sat holding the phone in her hands, stunned into silence. She had never seen her father react that way to anyone. Caleb had hated Sandy from the moment Kirsten had first brought him home with her, but even her husband received more warmth from her father than Ryan did.

Sandy had tried to tell her. He had seen the hatred in her father's eyes from the moment Caleb had met Ryan, but she had refused to listen. He was her father, after all. It was her duty to defend him, to love him when no one else would. If Kirsten were to abandon him then he would be alone in the world. Her sister, Hailey, hadn't been seen for quite some time and Kirsten knew that she didn't share much love for her father. She should feel proud that her father had so much faith in her, trusted her so completely, but all she could feel was a clawing anxiety in her stomach and an emptiness in her heart. Why did he make her feel this way? Why couldn't she stand up to—

A car door slammed somewhere outside, drawing Kirsten from her thoughts. She could hear Julie Cooper's raucous giggles and she felt sick. Caleb would be staying the night with her then. Disgusting.

Kirsten groaned and rolled over in her bed, staring at her clock with tired eyes. It was already two in the morning. Half of her night was gone and she was nowhere near sleep. She wished she could be up at the hospital with her husband and Ryan, but the nurses had strictly forbidden more than one parent in the room at night. They had said something about hospital rules and patient safety, but none of it made sense to her. What harm could she do Ryan by being there? She had tried to argue, but they had eventually threatened to take her visiting privileges away all together so she stopped. Sandy offered to let her stay the night instead of him, but Kirsten could see how much it was costing her husband to do so. Even as she told him no she could see the relief flood his eyes.

"This is ridiculous," she sighed, sitting up and rubbing her eyes blearily.

She wouldn't sleep. She knew that. It had been silly for her to even try, but what else was she supposed to do at two in the morning? She had tried reading, but she couldn't focus on the words in front of her and had read the same page twenty times before finally throwing the book down in frustration. She had tried watching television, but the comedy shows weren't funny and the dramas made her feel worse than she did before. She had tried cooking, but was so out of sorts that she had caught her dishrag on fire and turned a particularly magnificent roast into so much charred meat. She had even tried playing Seth's video games, but they all involved guns or violence and served as a constant reminder of where the newest member of her family was and why he was there.

The only thing that seemed to offer her any comfort at all was sitting in the pool house. She could feel close to Ryan there and perhaps even close her eyes and imagine she was sitting up at the hospital with him, holding his hand the way Sandy did. She retreated there now, padding softly outside and opening the door with a soft squeak of hinges. The moon glowed softly inside the small room and illuminated it well enough that Kirsten didn't have to turn on the light to find her way to the bed. She sat down with a soft sigh, trying to ignore the destruction the police had caused as they had ransacked his room.

A small plastic bag lay to her left, filled with Ryan's wallet, keys and cellphone. The hospital had handed them over to the police after they had stripped him of his clothes. Officer Ortega had explained that they might hold evidence and had to be bagged in order to be checked. He had given them back to her after they had searched Ryan's room. He had been apologetic and solemn. There hadn't been any evidence to put Ryan as an accomplice in any of Munoz's crimes. Kirsten knew that already. Ortega had known it to. He'd said so repeatedly and he'd apologized more than once for their intrusion.

Kirsten opened the bag with her fingers and dumped the contents onto the bed beside her. She refused to touch the cellphone. She had seen the bloody fingerprints all over the screen and had nearly been sick. The wallet and keys had been in his back pocket. Both were crusted with blood, but when she touched them she wasn't pounded with the memory of his weak voice telling her how much harder he believed he made everything. Wasn't reminded of how much she had failed to show him that she cared.

She flipped the wallet open and looked at the contents, her heart tightening in her chest. The items within were almost as sparse as the items in his room. His driver's license photo was faded even though he'd only received it a year ago. He wasn't smiling in the photo, but she wasn't horribly surprised. There were very few things in this world that brought a smile to his lips and she highly doubted that waiting long hours in line at the DMV was one of them. A silver checking card was tucked in the top pocket with the activation sticker still stuck on the bottom. Sandy and Kirsten had added him to their account and had given it to him for emergencies, but he'd never used it. The look on his face when they had handed it to him had been strangely guilty, but it wasn't until now that she understood why. He thought he was a burden on them, a responsibility they felt obligated to take care of but didn't want.

Kirsten swallowed hard as emotion hit her. She nearly threw the wallet away from her, but was stopped by something folded neatly in the crease where his cash would be. She took it out with shaking fingers and pulled it apart, the edges stuck together with blood. It was a photograph. The faces were warped from the blood stains, but she recognized it all the same and her heart broke. It was the four of them standing together in front of the pool. Seth and Ryan had been in the middle with Kirsten and Sandy standing on either side of them. Sandy's arm was wrapped around Ryan's shoulder pulling the young man in closer to them. Ryan had seemed surprised by the gesture as he always did, but his lips had been quirked into a sweet and unsure smile.

She remembered having that photo taken, but more importantly she remembered the first time she had stopped looking at Ryan as someone else's child and began looking at him as her own. He had been with them for almost a month and a half and they had been celebrating her birthday with a small barbecue. The boys were swimming in the pool, Seth chattering mindlessly about one subject or another while Ryan lounged quietly on a pool float. Sandy had been busy at the grill, smiling contentedly as he cooked their dinner to perfection. Kirsten hated being left without anything to do and decided that a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon would go perfectly with their steaks. She brought out a small bottle to share with her husband, juggling the glasses and the bottle in her hands. The glasses had slipped from her fingers and shattered against the concrete sending sharp shards of crystal in every direction.

"Kirsten," Sandy called as the boys looked over to see the cause of the commotion. "You okay, honey?"

"Fine," Kirsten growled setting the wine down on the table. "I just dropped some glasses."

She bent down to pick up some of the larger shards, but Ryan had beaten her to it. Kirsten didn't even know he had gotten out of the pool so fast. He sent her a small smile as he carefully picked up the pieces, cupping them gently in his left hand.

"I can do this," he told her softly. "You should relax."

"Everyone keeps telling me that today," Kirsten sighed.

"It is your birthday," Ryan said pointedly. "Isn't relaxing something you're supposed to do?"

"Hasn't anyone told you?" Kirsten said. "I don't know how to relax."

"I know the feeling," he whispered, reaching for a rather jagged piece of glass with his fingertips.

Kirsten was about to answer him, but he suddenly pulled his hand back with a small gasp of pain. The glass he'd been reaching for had sliced deep into his ring finger, the tip breaking off inside the wound. Blood was already beginning to sluice down his wrist as he sat back on his haunches and cursed. Kirsten had never been much for blood. It had always made her a bit queasy and as a child she had been prone to fainting when she had been forced to get her blood drawn.

Still, she was a mother and part of that meant handling substances one would normally find disgusting. She'd learned to deal with it after handling dozens of Seth's scraped knees, scratched elbows, and cut hands.

"Let me see," she told Ryan, pulling his hand towards her.

"No," he said softly, his muscles tensing beneath his skin as he strained against her hold. "It's okay, Kirsten. I can handle it. It's just a cut."

"It looks pretty deep," Kirsten said, ignoring him. "We need to get the glass out and get the bleeding stopped before we can see if you'll need stitches." She pulled him up with her, grabbing a cloth napkin from the table and wrapping it around his fingers.

"It's not a big deal," Ryan insisted as Kirsten led him inside. "I can take care of it on my own. You don't need to bother."

"Seth," Kirsten called behind her, ignoring him once more. "Watch out for that glass and tell your father we'll be back out in a bit."

"Everything okay?" Seth yelled back.

"Ryan cut himself on some glass," she replied. "Just fixing him up."

"Kirsten," Ryan said, pulling his injured hand from her grasp as they made their way towards the bathroom. "I'm fine. You should go outside and enjoy your party."

"Ryan Atwood," Kirsten said with a small smile. "Someone might think you're afraid of me."

"It's not that," Ryan said quietly. "I just don't want to be a burden. I've taken care of myself for a long time."

"Maybe you have," Kirsten agreed. "But it's about time you let someone else take care of you for a change. Besides, I know what I'm doing. I've taken care of more than my fair share of cuts and bruises."

"Okay," Ryan said with a small nod of his head.

She took him to the bathroom and he hopped up on the bathroom counter while she rummaged in one of the cupboards for the first aid kit she kept there. He watched her as she set the kit beside him and opened up her top drawer to grab a pair of tweezers and a small bottle of rubbing alcohol. Then she took his hand and gently unwrapped the napkin from around his cut.

"Seth used to come home with some of the worst scrapes," she told him as she turned on the sink. She put his fingers beneath the water and he winced, but he didn't complain. "He would make such a fuss when I cleaned him up. You'd think I'd been torturing the kid the way he carried on."

She turned the water off and held his hand up to the light trying to find the small piece of glass stuck in his finger even as blood began to bubble up again. She could barely see it and she grimaced at how deep it had sunk into Ryan's flesh.

"This might hurt a bit," she said apologetically, grabbing the tweezers and rubbing the tips with the alcohol.

"I'm pretty sure I've had worse," Ryan told her cryptically.

She glanced up at him, but his face was unreadable. He met her eyes for a brief moment then looked away, staring at some spot on the wall beside her ear. Kirsten sighed softly then turned her attention back to her work. She carefully pinched the piece of glass between the edges of the tweezers, purposefully avoiding Ryan's face. She had never been able to look at Seth while she worked on his cuts. The pain on his face had hurt her as much as the cut had hurt him.

She pulled upwards and the glass came free from Ryan's finger. The boy did not make a sound and Kirsten was unnerved by his lack of auditory outbursts. Perhaps this was because she was simply used to Seth's loud complaining and couldn't comprehend that others may have a higher pain tolerance than her son. Or perhaps she was unnerved because Ryan's silence left her wondering if he'd simply grown so used to pain and experienced so much of it that trivial cuts no longer mattered.

It was easy to forget that Ryan had been through horrors no child should have to live through. He was so easy to get along with, so helpful in everything he did, and so normal acting that it grew hard to see his pain, his unease and distrust, until moments such as these presented themselves. She could pass off his refusal to meet their eyes and his general dislike of touch as simple shyness because it was easier than having to acknowledge what he'd been through, but sometimes she wanted to ask, wanted to uncover the wounds lying hidden beneath his stony exterior so that she could mend them like she'd mended Seth's scrapes.

"You're good at this," Ryan said mildly as she poured alcohol over the cut to clean it out. "My mom used to be good at it to. Before—"He looked away from her. "Before my dad went to prison. We'd get a scrape and she would blow on it. Her breath would be really cold and, for a moment, the pain would go away. She used to call it her 'mommy touch'."

"Do you miss her?" Kirsten asked softly.

"Yeah," Ryan told her. "I miss her, but I don't think I want to find her anymore."

"Why?"

"She wasn't really my mother anymore," Ryan whispered. "She hadn't been for a long time, I guess. After my dad went away she just…she gave up. She changed."

"And your father?"

"What about my father?" Ryan asked quietly, his eyes darkening.

"Do you ever talk to him?" Kirsten asked, putting pressure on his fingers to try and stop the bleeding. "See him?"

"No," Ryan said simply.

"We could take you if you wanted," Kirsten offered, not understanding at that moment that much of the pain Ryan had gone through had been at his father's hands. "It would be a bit of a drive, but—"

"No," Ryan said sharply. Kirsten looked up at him in alarm and he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and softened his voice. "I'm sorry. It's a nice offer, but—it wouldn't be a good idea." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's easier to pretend I don't have a father than it is to acknowledge I have one. Out of sight, out of mind, right?"

"Ryan," Kirsten whispered as she wrapped a bandage around his finger. "Sandy and I looked at your medical file and—" She stopped when he stiffened and looked up at him. His jaw was clenched and his eyes had gone flat, twin stagnant, windless oceans of blue. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No," Ryan told her quietly. "Are you finished?"

"Yeah," Kirsten said, thrown off balance by his sudden change in demeanor. "I suppose."

"Thanks," he told her, hopping off the counter. "I should probably get out there and finish cleaning up before dinner."

He pushed past her and was almost through the door before Kirsten could even open her mouth to stop him. She knew she wasn't easy to connect with, but she had been hoping to have a moment with Ryan. If she were Sandy she would know the right things to say in order to get him to open up to her, but she wasn't her husband. She wanted the young man to trust her, but she didn't know how to make it happen.

"Ryan," she began. He stopped and turned to face her, his face pensive and cautious. She was going to tell him that she was there for him, that he could talk to her, but the obvious distrust in his eyes stopped her. She knew he wasn't trying to be hurtful, knew it was simply an instinct born from years of abuse, but it hurt her all the same. "You'll need to keep that clean."

"Yeah," he whispered, looking at her strangely, as if he knew that wasn't what she was going to say. "I know. Thanks."

Kirsten sighed and leaned against the sink. Leave it to her to try and have a meaningful conversation, but somehow manage to muck it up in the process. She hadn't realized until now that she craved his acceptance, his approval, perhaps as much as he craved hers. She wanted him to open up to her like a son would open up to his mother.

When she had returned to the pool the glass had been cleared and her family was beginning to sit down for dinner. Marissa and Jimmy had stopped by to say hello, but Sandy had somehow coaxed them to stay for dinner. She expected that her husband had offered them a place at their table more for Ryan's sake because she knew that Sandy wasn't a giant fan of Jimmy Cooper or of his old relationship with Kirsten.

After dinner, while they were singing happy birthday, Ryan met her eyes for the briefest moment and gifted her with a small smile. Her heart warmed at the sight of it and she smiled back making sure to meet his eyes before they flickered away from her again. Then Jimmy had offered to take a picture of the Cohen family and they had all gotten up with semi-reluctant grumbles to pose for the camera. Only Ryan stayed seated.

"Ryan," Sandy called. "Come on, kid. You should be in this."

"You go ahead," Ryan told him. "I'm not much of a picture person."

"Jimmy said 'family' photo," Kirsten said loudly. "That means you to. Now get up here and make us look good."

Sandy met her eyes over the top of Seth's head and smiled proudly at her. She grinned back and watched as Ryan joined them, trying to act reluctant, but Kristen could tell that he was secretly pleased. As they huddled together as a family, she realized just how much she cared about the young man that had come so suddenly into their lives. She simply had to find a way to show it.

Kirsten studied the photo for a long time in the dark shadows of the pool house. She had wasted so much time worrying about so many other things that she had completely forgotten what was important to her. She hated herself for allowing Julie Cooper and her father to treat Ryan like a pariah. She hated the fact that she had been unable to stand up for him when she knew, without a shadow of a doubt that he would have stood up for her.

She looked up and across the pool to where Julie Cooper's house stood silent in the moonlight. She hated that woman and she hated her father for sullying her mother's memory by dating her. Fury, hot and strong, suddenly flooded through her and before she even knew what she was doing she was halfway across the yard, striding purposefully towards the Cooper residence. She was going to give Julie Cooper a piece of her mind and if her father was there she might just give it to him to.

As she made her way down the driveway she couldn't help but wonder where the sudden burst of spontaneity had come from. Years ago, when she had first me Sandy, she had been full of fire and spirit and moments such as this occurred almost daily. Sandy often told her that he fell in love with rebelliousness first and her later. And then, somewhere along the way, she had lost that part of herself. She started working for Caleb and quickly began to worry less about what felt right and began to worry more about what looked right on paper. She missed the days when she was struggling to make ends meet. They may have been hard, may have been terrifying, but they were the best years of her life.

She reached Julie's door and pounded on the doorbell harder than was probably necessary. For a brief moment the realization of what she was doing hit her and she almost ran away. Here she was, standing outside her neighbor's door at three in the morning in nothing more than her pajamas and robe waiting to have a confrontation with the bitch of Newport. The only thing that kept her standing there was the thought of Ryan's killer running free all because Julie Cooper decided to stick her nose where it didn't belong.

Kirsten pushed her finger down on the doorbell and kept it there. She could hear the annoying buzzer like sound through the door and she smiled grimly. The porch light suddenly came on and Kirsten released her hold on the bell, listening as someone angrily unlocked the door. Julie Cooper threw the door open and stood, hands on her hips, glaring at Kirsten from across the threshold.

"What the hell are you doing?" Julie demanded. "Have you gone completely crazy?"

"I want to know why," Kirsten hissed. "I want to know why you stopped Marissa from talking to the cops, Julie."

"This is ridiculous," Julie said, trying to shut the door in her face. "I don't have anything to say to you."

"Don't," Kirsten spat, putting her foot in the door. "Don't you dare shut that door on me. I want an answer of why you decided to put my family through this. Who the hell do you think you are?"

"He's a criminal," Julie said disdainfully. "He nearly got my daughter killed. Whatever happened to him is his own damn fault."

"Your daughter?" Kirsten smirked. "The same daughter you put through hell these last few months? The daughter who hates you? You don't get to pick and choose when you care about your kids, Julie."

"How dare you—"

"How dare I?" Kirsten yelled. "How dare you! That asshole nearly killed Ryan and now he's loose because you had some kind of vendetta against my kid!"

"He isn't your kid," Julie hissed. "He's some scoundrel your lowlife husband found on the street and brought home to our neighborhood. Kids like Ryan don't belong in Newport, Kirsten. They belong in jail."

"You know what I think?" Kirsten said cruelly. "I think the only reason you don't like Ryan is because he reminds you of where you came from, Julie. Only…he's better than you ever were, isn't he? He was never trailer trash."

"I won't stand here and listen to this," Julie said, anger flushing her cheeks. "You have no right to speak to me this way."

"I have every right," Kirsten shouted. "Do you know who came to my home yesterday, Julie? The cops. They tore through my home looking for evidence against Ryan. They invaded the place where my children live and turned it sour."

"That's what you get when you bring lying, no-good, criminals into your—"

Kirsten had never hit another person in her life. She normally abhorred violence, but in that moment slapping Julie Cooper across the face had never felt better. Both women stood there, flushed with anger and chests heaving, while silence fell upon them. The resounding slap seemed to echo in Kirsten's ears and her palm stung.

"Kiki," her father said, opening the door and staring down at his daughter in shock. "What is the meaning of this? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"She hit me," Julie said slowly. "Caleb, did you see what she did? Your daughter hit me."

"And it felt damn good," Kirsten spat.

"What the hell is the matter with you, Kiki? What has gotten into you?"

"I am tired of people treating Ryan like he's dirt," Kirsten said harshly. "I am sick of hearing that he's a criminal. And I am sick of that bitch walking around like she's better than him."

"This is about that boy?" Caleb asked her, eyes widening in surprise. "Has he really got you this fooled?"

"I don't understand where you got the idea that Ryan is going to steal from us," Kirsten whispered, staring at her father. "He wants nothing from us, Dad. We try to buy him things and he refuses. Christ, we gave him his own check card and he hasn't even activated it."

"It's an act, Kiki. Surely you can see that. He's waiting for the right moment and then he'll strike."

"You're wrong about him," Kirsten pleaded. "Just give him a chance. You'll see what I see. I guarantee it."

"Don't be a fool," Caleb said fiercely. "Your mother and I brought you up with more brains than this."

"My mother?" Kirsten said coldly. "You dare bring up mom when you're sleeping with this tramp? How dare you even talk about her. The fact that you're with Julie Cooper is an insult to her memory."

"You're being quite the hypocrite," Caleb snapped. "You tell me to get to know this miscreant you bring into our family, but you refuse to accept Julie as part of it as well."

"I know what Julie is," Kirsten said. "And I will never accept her as a member of my family. I would rather die than—"

"You are being a bit dramatic, don't you think?" Caleb said disdainfully.

"My kid is lying comatose in the hospital," Kirsten said softly. "I'm exhausted, Daddy. And all I want is for you to give him a chance. Please…just give him a chance."

There was a moment's silence and Kirsten actually began to hope that her father was considering her words. Julie glared at her from behind his back, the imprint of Kirsten's fingers clearly visible across her skin.

"I'm sorry you've chosen to be a child about this," Caleb told her finally. "I will not allow myself to be sucked into this boy's game, Kiki. I would have hoped you would have been strong enough to do what was necessary, but I can see that you will have to learn the hard way."

His words struck Kirsten like a wrecking ball and she put a hand to her chest as if the pressure of her fingers could help heal the hole he'd torn through her heart. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes, but she refused to shed them. Not in front of Julie and certainly not in front of her father.

"I see," Kirsten whispered.

"You realize how foolish you've been eventually," Caleb continued. "And you'll be mortified when you do, but I am prepared to overlook this little outburst and pretend it never happened. I will see you at work when you are ready to stop acting like a spoiled child."

"Sandy was right about you," Kirsten said softly. "I give you everything and you just—" She shook her head and swallowed. "I love you, Dad. I love you, but things have to change. Ryan is a member of our family now. Whether you like it or not. If you can't accept that then—" She shrugged her shoulders listlessly.

"Then what?" Caleb snorted.

"You aren't welcome in my home anymore, Dad."

"Kiki," Caleb exclaimed. "You can't be serious!"

"You know what?" Kirsten whispered sadly. "I really think I am. Ryan has been through hell and back, Dad. And yet he continues to be kind and loyal and selfless. I used to think that you were the one to admire…that if I could be like you I would be happy, but now I realize that it isn't you I should strive to be like. It's him." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I will work with you, but I can't continue to play both sides. I have to choose and, for better or worse, I've chosen Ryan."

She met his eyes to let him know she was deadly serious then turned and began to walk back to her home. She felt the tears starting, but she managed to keep her shoulders steady.

"What happens when he does exactly what I said he would?" Caleb called after her. "Don't even think about asking for my help!"

"Don't worry," Kirsten said, turning to face him. "I won't."

She turned her back on him once more and walked slowly up the driveway to her home. It was only when she had closed the door that she finally let the emotion hit her. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs and slid down the doorframe until she sat in a heap at its base. She tried to be quiet, tried to keep from waking Seth, but once her tears began they wouldn't stop. She heard his door open and his feet padding down the hallway.

"Mom," Seth cried in alarm. "Is Ryan okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine," Kirsten gasped out, wiping her eyes. "Go back to bed, Seth."

"But—"

"Please," Kirsten whispered. "Seth, I just need a minute."

"Did Dad call?" Seth persisted. "Is Ryan okay?"

"No," Kirsten told him. "Dad didn't call. I just—"

In the coming days Kirsten would wonder if God above had planned that moment. No sooner had she began to explain that Sandy hadn't called the phone rang. At three thirty in the morning there was only one person it could be.

"Hello," Kirsten said breathlessly as she picked up the phone. "Sandy?"

"Kirsten," Sandy said harshly. She could hear the emotion in his voice and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

"Is—is everything okay, Sandy?" she asked. "Is Ryan—"

"Kirsten," Sandy said again, hoarser than before. "Kirsten, he's awake. Ryan's awake."