Page 201 of Nyx

I freeze, wondering whether our earlier conversation was misplaced. Maybe I should've given her different advice about how to handle the situation.

"She's being admitted," Kayla continues.

"Oh gosh," I say, unsure what other words would comfort her right now.

I know better than to tell her everything will be okay because I don't have details on her condition.

"Pneumonia," she whispers. "They're considering putting her on a ventilator."

My eyes widen before I can control my reaction.

This situation is much more dire than I had originally thought.

"I don't know what to do," she says, her shoulders trembling as she cries.

My heart is breaking for her. I can’t even imagine the position she's in right now.

"What have the foster parents said?" I ask.

She shakes her head slightly once again. "They stopped texting back twenty minutes ago. I have no idea what's happening."

My head is flooded with scenarios, and none of them are good.

I know kids are resilient. They get sick quickly, but they also heal faster than adults, more often than not, but there's no way to predict how things will go with Aleah.

"I have to go to the hospital," she says, glancing up at me with urgency in her eyes.

"Kayla," I say softly, but she rejects the tone with another swift shake of her head.

"If my daughter dies and I'm not there…" she sobs.

"We don't know that's what's happening," I say before reconsidering my words.

We don't know. But that also means it could be as bad as Kayla is imagining it, and putting myself in her shoes, there isn't a court order or an army of people who could stop me from going to my own child if she were this ill.

"Juliet," she begs. "I have to go."

I nod in agreement before I can think it fully through.

"What about the foster parents?" I ask, wanting her to take everything into consideration before she acts.

"They’ll let me see her," she assures me.

"And the caseworker? What if she's there?"

Kayla shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

"She won't be. It's late. She's probably at home. There's no reason for her to be there."

I nod, knowing she's probably right. There would be no benefit to the CYFD employee in sitting in the waiting room for a sick child.

"Let's find someone to take you to the hospital," I say, turning to head back down the hall, but her hand reaches out, clamping my forearm.

"No," she says. "Can you take me?"

"Kayla, I don't think that's safe."

"The foster parents weren't very impressed with my move here," she says, her eyes darting down the hallway as if she's afraid someone might overhear our conversation. "They don't have the best opinion about Cerberus."