“No,” Maya replied. “You didn’t.”
She closed her eyes, exhausted.
I wanted to defend myself. I wanted to explain that I had spent years supporting everyone because my father died young and my mother had struggled. I wanted to say that Chloe had always been impulsive and Mark had been between jobs more often than he had been employed. I wanted to say that helping family was not the same as choosing them over my wife.
But as I watched Maya lie in a hospital bed because she had been afraid to call me, every explanation sounded like another excuse.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Her eyes opened again.
“I don’t need you to be sorry tonight, David. I need to know Liam and I are safe.”
“You are.”
“From them?”
The answer should have been immediate.