Page 85 of All Along The Watchtower

As Peyton whooped, I caught Bree close, spinning to keep us from toppling over. “That’s amazing.”

Amid all the uncertainty, it truly was a beacon of desperately needed hope.

She eased back and framed my face between her palms, those gray eyes lighter than they’d been in days. “He’s going to be okay.”

In that moment, held captive by her touch, it felt as if everything else would be, too.

Then she released me, tugging back with fresh frenetic energy. “I have to get to the ferry. I don’t want him waking up alone.”

Of course she didn’t. And I didn’t want her going to the mainland by herself, just in case there was some unexpected turn for the worse. But there were details to sort. A daughter to protect.

“I know you’re excited, but slow your roll. You’ve got another hour until the ferry, and you should pack a bag this time, for the just in case.”

“Right. Right.” She turned a circle, as if half expecting all her stuff to have materialized amid the boxes we’d just taken off the moving truck.

I nudged her toward the door. “Next door.”

“Right.” She bolted.

“Don’t leave without me!”

A backward wave was my only reply.

CHAPTER 39

BREE

The late afternoon sun slanted through the hospital windows as Ford and I made our way through the now-familiar corridors toward Pop’s room. It had taken so much longer to get here than I’d wanted. Peyton had begged to come along, those big eyes of hers doing their damnedest to break my resolve. But the doctors had been clear about limiting Pop’s contact with others while he was coming out of the coma, and I couldn’t risk anything setting back his recovery.

In the end, she’d stayed with Willa and Sawyer, a choice which had caught me by surprise until Ford explained that he’d arranged for them to keep Keeley, too. No question, my pup would enjoy a playdate with her best pal, and the prospect of romping with two dogs had brightened Peyton’s mood considerably.

My hand found Ford’s without conscious thought, our fingers lacing together. The contact steadied me, helped keep the wild hope in check. I knew this was far from the end of his recovery. It was just a tiny first step. I needed to remember that it was no guarantee he’d go back to being the Pop I remembered. But it was so hard not to jump ahead to when everything was okay again.

Ford’s thumb stroked along the back of my hand. “You’re practically vibrating.”

“I can’t help it.” The words tumbled out. “After everything that happened, just having him wake up means everything.” Because one of the fears that had been stalking me since his AFib attack was that he’d never wake up again. That I’d never get the chance to say goodbye.

Ford’s grip tightened. “I know.”

The comfort of his presence still felt new, like a gift I wasn’t quite sure I deserved. But I was grateful for it, especially now.

We rounded the corner to Pop’s floor, and I caught sight of his regular nurse, Sarah, coming out of his room. She broke into a smile. “Perfect timing. He’s been in and out, but more alert each time.”

My heart leapt. “Has he said anything?”

“Not yet, but he’s responding to commands—squeezing hands, wiggling toes. All good signs.”

I barely remembered to thank her before pulling Ford toward Pop’s room. The steady beep of monitors greeted us, along with the whoosh of the ventilator they’d kept him on while reducing his sedation.

Pop lay still against the white sheets, but some of the gray pallor had faded from his skin. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.

I dropped into the chair beside his bed, keeping hold of Ford’s hand as I reached for Pop’s with my free one. “Hey Pop. I’m back.”

His fingers twitched against mine.

“Did you see that?” I twisted to look up at Ford, who nodded.

“Talk to him some more.”

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