Brynne made her way toward him, her hands shoved into the pockets of her warmest coat. “It wasn’t exactly brain surgery,” she said. “They had to drill a hole in Eli’s skull because his brain was swollen.”

Mike winced. “Yikes,” he said.

That was as close as Mike Bailey ever got to swearing.

“Is Mom here, too?” Brynne asked, reaching the steps.

Her dad stepped aside, holding the back door open for her. “Of course she is,” he replied. “We’ve been calling and texting all night, and getting no response whatsoever. We were really worried, Brynne.”

“I’m sorry,” Brynne replied, going inside and starting up the back stairway. Light spilled from the landing above, which meant the apartment door was standing open, probably with Alice Bailey framed within it. “I was pretty distracted.”

She could have said the Wi-Fi connection wasn’t very good at the hospital, since that was so often true in other places, but the Creek’s medical facility was relatively new, and most electronic messages came and went with little or no problem.

Alice was indeed waiting in the apartment doorway, holding a clearly cranky Waldo in her arms. He was squirming to be put down, but Brynne knew her mom thought she was comforting the poor creature, and she didn’t have the heart to correct her.

She smiled at her mother—and by extension her cat—and stepped into the apartment.

Every light was on.

There was freshly brewed coffee.

The minor irritation Brynne had felt from the time she’d spotted her parents’ car subsided, replaced by a quiet sense of gratitude.

It was nice not to be alone, especially tonight.

Or this morning.

Whichever.

Brynne kissed her mother’s cheek, then slipped off her coat and hung it in the tiny closet beside the door.

Waldo wriggled free of Alice’s embrace and leaped to the floor, still complaining. He did not countenance being manhandled, even by a woman.

Brynne had fed the contentious little animal earlier, but now she bribed him into silence with a few flakes of tuna from the container in the fridge.

“That cat is spoiled,” Alice said fondly.

“So true,” Brynne replied, with a tired smile.

“Darling, you look utterly exhausted,” her mother observed. “Why don’t you shower and put on some snuggly pajamas? While you’re doing those things, your dad and I will fix you an early breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry,” Brynne said, grateful for the thought. “And I’m not sure I have the stamina for a shower. I was planning on giving Waldo the required ration of canned fish and flopping facedown on my bed.”

“You may think you’re not hungry,” Alice pointed out reasonably, “but that doesn’t mean your body isn’t in need of sustenance. You’ve been through something traumatic.”