Page 28 of The Keeper

“I need?—”

“Hang on, darlin’, we’re almost there.” I reached across the console to take her hand while navigating the early afternoon traffic like I was running from the cops.

My bike would have been faster, but I didn’t have a helmet. That, and I wasn’t entirely convinced she would have been capable of holding onto me in the state she was in.

She nodded, tears spilling down her bloodless cheeks. As I approached the exit for the children’s hospital, her fingernails dug into the flesh above my knuckles in a silent plea for me to drive faster.

“Almost there,” I muttered, pressing harder on the gas pedal.

By the time I pulled into a parking space, my skin was scored with crescent-shaped indentions. Piper sprang from the SUV before I’d even killed the engine and sprinted toward the emergency room entrance with a single-minded focus I knew all too well.

“Piper!” I called after her, pausing to grab my kutte from the backseat and slipping it on before forcing my legs into action. Christ, she was surprisingly fast for someone wearing heels.

“My daughter was brought in,” she panted as soon as she reached the front desk. “Avery. Avery Kelly.”

Was that his last name or hers?

The receptionist offered her a sympathetic smile, her fingers rapidly tapping against her keyboard. “Just one moment, ma’am.”

Less than a minute later, a nurse wearing Winnie the Pooh scrubsand a smile that didn’t quite reach her tired eyes arrived to take us back.

We moved through a labyrinth of identical hallways, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow on the white walls and linoleum floors. The air was filled with the sterile scent of disinfectant and the sounds of babies crying.

Piper held onto me, her small hand gripping mine so tightly I’d need a crowbar to pry her fingers loose.

We arrived at a nondescript door, and the nurse gently pushed it open before ushering us in. I took two steps before stumbling to a stop just inside the doorway, pressing my fist to my mouth as I took in the bloody gash on Avery’s temple. I’d seen plenty of head wounds, but never on someone so tiny.

Piper dropped my hand to rush to her daughter’s side.

“We’re trying to get her blood pressure, but little miss is not having it,” a nurse said as Avery flailed and kicked at her with a hoarse, raspy cry.

“Here, let me see if I can get her calmed down. Mama’s here,” she cooed, gently rocking her daughter in her arms. Avery clung to Piper, sucking violently on her pacifier for a few seconds before launching into another high-pitched, intense wail.

I couldn’t explain it. It was as if someone had wrapped their hand around my heart and was squeezing the life out of it. I hadn’t felt this fucking helpless since Levi.

A middle-aged woman, who I presumed was Piper’s mother, stroked a hand over the little girl’s strawberry curls before noticing me hovering in the doorway.

“Who are you?” she asked, her sharp hazel eyes narrowing when they landed on my kutte.

“Dane Riggs,” I answered, offering a hand that was pointedly ignored. “I’m a friend of Piper’s.”

She looked at me as if I were a stray dog that had wandered into their home and taken a shit on the carpet. “I see. Well, as much as I’m sure she appreciates you being here, this is a family matter, so you should probably go.”

“Mother!” Piper hissed before peering up at me. “Dane, I need?—”

Avery jerked in her arms with a pained cry, her small body shuddering violently as if she were cold. Piper kissed the top of her head and brushed the tears from her reddened cheeks while humming softly.

“What do you need?” I asked, stepping around the five-foot-nothing obstacle in my way to reach them.

“I need you to stay,” she pleaded, her eyes welling up with fresh tears as she stroked Avery’s cheek until the cries trailed off into pitiful whimpers. “Please.”

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” I said, ignoring her mother’s disapproving glare.

“You’re letting this…bikernear my granddaughter?” she retorted, clutching at her throat as if choking on the idea.

Piper’s eyes flashed in warning. “Yes, Mom. This biker has been more help in the last thirty minutes than you’ve been since we got here. Now, will someone please tell me what happened?”

“She fell out of her highchair,” she explained, looking like her daughter when she lowered her gaze to the floor.

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