“Oh, he’s here. He came back separately. Skipped lunch so he could do chores.”

Which meant he’d probably been out at the barn when she’d been here and then . . . why hadn’t they crossed paths?

“He’s upstairs?”

Lilian nodded and Sydney hurried past her, but the woman’s footsteps followed. “Is everything okay? Weren’t you picking up Micah this morning?”

“Oh yeah. He—”

“Sydney’s here?” Indi came into the hallway from the dining room, Wilder behind her.

“Maggie’s been asking about you,” Wilder said. “You can ride with Lil and me if you—”

“No.” She blurted it louder than she meant to and three pairs of eyes stared at her. “I mean . . . I mean, yes, I definitely want to see Maggie. Again, that is. I did see her this morning but she wasn’t awake yet. But you already know that.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lil asked.

“Y-yes. I just need to talk to your brother. But I’ll come to the hospital. Later. Promise.” She squeezed past the crowd in the hallway and rushed to the staircase, clambering up. Then stopping halfway.

With a grin, she scrambled back down, reaching for the coat still draped over the banister. Neil’s coat, left there the night before when she’d been sure—so sure—she had to leave.

But that’d been before she knew what she knew now.

That there was one thing Nikola hadn’t had right. She’d realized it as she’d run all over the farm looking for Neil. It had never been about the happy ending at all. But a new beginning.

She raced up the steps, Neil’s coat under her arm, not slowing until she reached the second floor, her gaze swinging from Neil’s open bedroom door down the hallway to the closed door in front of her.

This time, she noticed the sliver of light underneath. And heard the patter of water and then the squeal of the faucet and, a second later, the sound of the shower curtain being pushed aside.

In which case, this time, she would not go barreling in. She stopped and forced herself to breathe. She would knock. Like a civilized person.

Anxious energy mingled with anticipation as she lifted her fist and rapped.

“Go without me, Lil. I’ll drive to the hospital separately.”

“It’s not Lilian.”

Silence.

And then a rustle of clothing, the sound of the door’s latch, and his head poked out, hair still dripping. “Syd? You’re here?”

“Well, you told me not to go home until Sunday and it’s not Sunday, so . . .”

“Hmm.”

Not what he wanted to hear, clearly. Which did her nervous heart a world of good. “Are you dressed?”

He glanced down. “Partially.”

“Well, could you get all the way dressed? I need to talk to you.”

“Hmm,” he said again. “Decided not to just barge in on me this time?” Despite the hint of fatigue in his eyes—had the poor man slept at all last night?—one corner of his mouth lifted.