I don't confess to Spencer.

They're still observing Bastien that evening. Spencer sits next to me, one hand on my knee. It's stopped me from shaking. Bastien looks good, probably better than me. I've had to go to the bathroom from how much coffee I've drunk, but I refuse to look at myself in the mirror.

I have to tell him. Just, now isn't a good time. I suppose it never has been, likely never will be. Right now especially though, because the nurses only come by every thirty minutes and someone really should be watching him to make sure he doesn't fall asleep. It mostly involves talking to Bastien, since he can't use his phone or really move around. He's antsier than I am, certainly.

After finding out that he'll be okay, Estelle decides not to come. She tells Reid, who tells me. I don't blame her. No one likes hospitals. Both her parents are alive and well, and of course I don't blame her for staying behind.

At dinner, when someone enters the room, halfway between the nurses rounds, I assume it is Estelle with dinner. Instead, I'm greeted by Caro. She looks better than she did at Christmas. The room is dark, but I can tell she has dyed her hair back to it's natural colour, closer to strawberry blonde than the more lighter blond of out brothers. I can't remember the last time I saw her in trousers, but here Caro is in jeans and a khaki jacket of all things. It must be Texas that is wearing her down.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," she snaps, hurrying to hug Bastien before any of us can say hello.

He groans, and she squeezes tighter.

"Did you fly in?" I ask, an eyebrow raised. Not that she needed to be invited, but she didn't tell me that she was coming.

She nods, "all the way from Dallas. You need to be more carefu, Seb."

Caro switches to French to chastise him, and I'm not surprised by the scowl that engraves itself in his face.

"Your stupid husband in the hallway?"

Caro yanks herself out of Bastien's grasp. She glares at him and then turns to me, "you want coffee?"

"I'll go," Spencer offers already standing up.

Caro shakes her head, "I won't hear a word of that. Cole needs to stretch her legs. Venez."

Being told what to do in French always works better than in English. I squeeze Spencer's hand and then get up to walk out of the room. We walk down the hallway, and I wince at the bright lights. I wonder how we are ever going to wheel Bastien out of here, if he needs to be in such a dark space.

Out here, Caro's face looks just as good. She wears light make up, so I can't tell if her skin is pale or even, or somehow tan now that it's March. Her hair looks less strawberry blonde in the light, but it definitely is closer to her natural hair. She walks with her head high, and I'm slouching so much I wonder if we look nearly the same height.

"So, Stéphane has moved Easter plans," she says in the hallway.

I nod. My mind feels blank. Whiter than the hospital walls.

She bumps my shoulder as we walk, "you should go home."

I turn and scrunch my nose, "I'm not leaving him."

"You know, you're the worst parts of me."

"I'm older, you're the worst parts of me."

She scrunches her nose too. We both start to laugh.

It's easy catching up with her. She's found a job, tutoring French, and she's paid off her car. Not enough to buy a home. Mostly, she asks me about my renovations. She'll be sleeping at mine, probably, while she's in town so she'll get to see them. So as we wait in line I try to catch her up without ruining the view.

It's later in the day, so I order a decaf for Spencer. The lady behind the counter looks at me funny when I tell her to put in six sugars. My coffee I order black, caffeinated. I'm going to be up for hours anyway.

Once Caro is done placing her order, she looks at me, "how are things with Spencer?"

"Good," I shrug. "We're dating."

She raises an eyebrow, "we're you not before?"

"It's all complicated," I massage my temples. "How are things with Cletus?"

Before she can answer, we're called to the counter and given out coffees. She hurries ahead of me back toward Bastien's room.

"Being here isn't helping," she says.

My hands tighten on the coffee cup. It burns through to my fingers, "I'm doomed to abandon you all again, you know. I can handle being here."

"Okay, ouch," Caro says. "That wasn't what I even meant. I just though... once Stéphane gets here, go home and sleep. Just for like, three hours."

"Stéphane's coming too?"

"He's like forty-five minutes away."

I'm glad I didn't tell any of them about the broken orbital socket. I couldn't handle a minor reunion then, when Bastien actually was injured badly. I mean, I'm not sure I could have kept myself from spilling everything. From the army to he fights and the drinking that is elss and less appropriate for a twenty-three year old. That was before the threats, but now it takes everything to keep all of that inside me.

"Fine," I agree. Then, I take a sip of the coffee. It burns my tongue. Pulling it back, I look at her. "How are things with Cletus, actually?"

She bites her lip, "let's just worry about Bastien for now.

"Caro-"

"Arrête!"

The same tone our mother used, so I do stop.

When we return, the nurse is doing her chek. I apss Spencer the coffee but I don't opt do sit down next to him. The room is diml they've brought in a weak lamp to see how he adjusts in the light. The room has a soft orange glow, and it makes Caro's hair redder. For her part, she refuses my chair. Sore legs from the plane, she alleges. I don't believe her.

Stéphane finally arrives. He steps in the doorway, his face barely lit by the lams. Even in the orange glow, he looks pale. He's dressed in his park ranger uniform.

"A family reunion over little old me?" Bastien grins. "Come in, or do you just want to leer?"
Stéphane steps in the room. Caro is smiling, but he's not. I'm not either.

"You're okay?" he asks.

I watch his eyes scan the hospital walls. As much as I wasn't there when he died, I was there before. But someone was there that day. Someone who had to place calls, who stoof alone. Stéphane.

"I won't be tiptoeing for a few weeks," Bastien pulls himself to sit up more. The bed creaks under his weight, and he tenses for a second. "Concussion's only mild."

"He's lucky," I say.

"We're all going to a casino after this."

"No flashing lights," Caro chastises him.

Stéphane just stares blankly. I move closer to him, and wrapped my arm in his, "we're going to grab food in the cafeteria. Spen, do you need anything?"

He shakes his head.

"Maybe you can go get the car in a few minutes," I offer. "I just need a snack and we can head out."

Spencer smiles, just slightly.

With my coffee in hand, Stéphane and I walked back toward the cafeteria. In the still light, I can see how pink his faces. The bridge of his nose, his cheeks, his ears, all of it is pink and puffy.

"Why was he at your place?" Stéphane asks.

I stuff my free hand in my pocket. My work clothes feel stiff. Caro was right; I need to go home and crawl into bed, let Spencer wrap me up and lie in his arms until I finally sleep.

"We agreed not to co-parent," I look at him.

Stéphane curls a fist. Then the tears start to flow. His knees give out as he sobs and I catch him. The coffee splatters on the floor. I'm strong but he is too heavy for me. I guide him down, away from the coffee spill. He clings to my arms.

"He's okay," I tell him. "He's okay."

Stéphane breathes in and out and then sobs again.

A nurse comes over and helps me get Stéphane off the floor. She guides him through a breathing exercise, and we walk to the nearest waiting room. I text Spencer to let him know not to get the car just yet.

It takes ten minutes for it to pass, until Stéphane looks at me with clear eyes. They are glossy. His skin is flushed bright red.

"I haven't..." he says. "They're getting worse."

"Your panic attacks?"

He nods, "doesn't help that I broke up with my girlfriend today."

I rub the spot between his shoulder blades. He leans over, squeezing me in a hug. I hug him back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

We sit like that for a few minutes. I can feel his breathing shifting. When I thought it was done earlier, I was wrong. It just looked done. His breathing was stilted still, baited breaths held and held and released when he thought I wasn't listening for it. Now that it changes, I notice the difference.

Finally, he exhales, "go home. I'm fine."

That doesn't matter to me though. I want to say, regardless of his request. He could be fine, and Bastien could be too, and Caro could be clear about what is going on with her husband, and I would still want to say. Even if they never needed me again. Maybe that's enough.

I text Spencer, letting him know it is time to pull the car around. After all, this isn't really leaving.

~~~~~

No more girlfriend for Stéphane and also Cole not telling Spencer everything? What's new?