***

We skid into the hospital entrance, and it’s a flurry of movement. Jared shouts for help, Troy carries Savannah inside, and I’m left holding Noah and the dog, feeling completely useless.

A nurse rushes over with a stretcher, and Troy lays Savannah down, his hands lingering on her arm like he’s afraid to let go.

“She collapsed,” he says, his voice thick. “She said she wasn’t feeling good, and then…”

“We’ve got her,” the nurse says, her tone calm but firm.

They wheel Savannah away, and Troy takes a step like he’s gonna follow, but another nurse stops him.

“You can’t go back there yet. We’ll update you as soon as we know anything.”

Troy looks like he might fight her, but Jared grabs his shoulder. “Let them do their job.”

Troy nods reluctantly, his hands clenching into fists.

We’re left in the waiting room, the silence oppressive. Noah’s stopped crying, but he’s still fussy, squirming in his carrier. The pup is curled up in my lap, shaking a little.

Troy hasn’t sat down. He’s pacing, his hands running through his hair over and over.

“She’s gonna be okay,” I say again, trying to believe it this time.

“She has to be,” Troy repeats, his voice barely audible.

Jared’s sitting beside me, his leg bouncing like he can’t keep still.

“What the hell happened?” he finally asks.

“I don’t know,” Troy says, stopping to look at us. “She didn’t say much. Just that she didn’t feel good. And now…”

He trails off, his voice breaking.

“Do you think maybe we did this to her?” Jared whispers. “Do you think we pushed her too far?”

I immediately shake my head. “She seemed fine this morning. I don’t think that could be it.” But deep down, I’m not sure whether I am trying to convince both of them or just me.

“Fuck! She’s so small,” Troy chokes out. “She was so light in my arms…”

I reach over, squeezing his shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. She’s tough. She’ll pull through.”

But deep down, I’m just as scared as he is.

And judging by the look of sheer panic on Jared’s face, he is too.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jared

The hospital waiting room feels like it’s closing in on us. The fluorescent lights hum, Noah fusses in Jamie’s arms, and Troy hasn’t stopped pacing for the last ten minutes. I’m about ready to wring his neck—or my own—just to break the tension.

Finally, a nurse appears at the front desk and calls out, “Who’s here for Savannah Brooks?”

We all rush over at once, stumbling into each other like idiots.

The nurse blinks at us, her pen pausing mid-checklist. “Uh…all of you?”

“Yes,” Jamie says, Noah balanced on one arm and the puppy wriggling in his other. “We’re all with her.”