What had he done?

“Xander?” Kennedy’s soft voice was as much a reminder of support as a question.

Feeling utterly lost, he lifted his head to look at her. “I... He’s been rushed to the hospital in Johnson City.”

“Then let’s go.”

“I...” Xander closed his eyes, at war with himself. He was still so fucking angry. And his father might be dying.

Kennedy closed the distance between them, pulling him into a tight embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, beyond grateful that she was here.

“It doesn’t matter how angry you are with him right now. If you don’t go, you’ll regret it.”

His shuddering inhale shook them both. “Okay.” This was a disaster. He was trained to handle disasters. He could do this. He stepped back. “Okay.”

“Give me your keys.” Kennedy held out a hand.

“I’m in the cruiser. You can’t legally drive it.”

“Then we’ll take Joan’s Jeep. You’re in no shape to drive.”

He didn’t argue.

Her sisters trailed them down the stairs.

“Keep us updated,” Pru said. “And let us know what we can do.”

Kennedy said something he didn’t hear. Then they were in the Jeep, flying out of town. She didn’t pressure him to speak on the half-hour drive, and he was grateful. He didn’t think he could process any of this yet. But he held tight to her hand because she was his lifeline.

They found his mother in the waiting room. Marilyn leapt up at the sight of him. “Xander!” Then her gaze slid to Kennedy and her step faltered.

The idea of not bringing Kennedy had never even crossed his mind, but at that little hitch, Xander began to wonder if her being here was the right thing after all. She’d come to support him, but what kind of toll would this take on her?

He pulled his mother in for a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

“They’ve rushed him in for emergency surgery.” Her pretty face was streaked with tears. “Beyond that, I don’t know.”

Xander held her by the elbows, struggling to keep his composure. “What happened?”

Marilyn’s gaze strayed to Kennedy. Just a quick, involuntary glance, but Xander saw it. “His conscience caught up with him.”

No, not his conscience. Xander. This was because of him, because he’d gone to war for her, trying to make his father pay for his wrongs. It seemed he’d done too good a job.

Marilyn turned to face Kennedy, fresh distress written across her features. “Kennedy, what he did—”

“Don’t.” Kennedy’s tone was gentle. “That’s not what’s important right now.”

That she could set all that aside after what his father had done… She was a better person than he was, and he felt humbled that she was with him.

His mother’s lips trembled. She reached out to take Kennedy’s hand. “Thank you for coming.”

The waiting was excruciating. Kennedy made an effort to distract them both for a few hours with a continuous string of stories from her travels. She brought them bad coffee, tried to get them both to eat something. And the clock kept ticking. Eventually, sometime after the four-hour mark, his mother fell asleep, slumped in one of the waiting room chairs. A kind nurse brought a pillow and blanket. Xander paced to the window as Kennedy used them

to make her as comfortable as possible. Guilt and dread churned in his gut. Why the hell hadn’t the doctors come to tell them anything?

Kennedy joined him at the window, looking out into the night. “Your mom’s asleep finally. How you holding up?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. He didn’t look at her, couldn’t, as he admitted, “This is all my fault.”