“There wasn’t anything you could have done. John won’t slow down—you know that as well as I do. He’s not happy unless he’s going twice the speed of sound.”

“You don’t think he’s going to make it,” she said, stunned.

“Don’t give up.” Mason placed a hand on her shoulder. “You know your dad. He’s a fighter. He was still breathing, his heartbeat still strong when the paramedics arrived.” He offered her the hint of a smile. “If anyone can beat this, it’s your old man.”

“I hope you’re right,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. She stared out the open window and fought tears. It wasn’t like her to cry, yet right now, knowing she might lose her only surviving parent, she wanted to break down completely and shake her fist and scream and tell the whole world that it wasn’t fair.

Mason’s hand was comforting and she wished there was time for him to fold her into his arms and tell her everything would be all right, that her father would live a robust life, that somehow she’d learn to accept John’s bride as well as the half-sisters she hadn’t known existed. And that, crazy though it seemed, they would all be one big happy family. Of course, it was a pipe dream.

“I, uh, saw Dee Dee today,” she said, as much to break the silence as to keep her mind off her father.

“Today?”

“At Tiffany’s.”

He checked his watch. “Terri said she’d drop her off for a couple of hours, but it was supposed to be later this evening. Are you sure?” Concentration furrowed his brow as they reached the outskirts of town.

“Yes, I spoke with her.”

“For the love of Mike, that woman!” His mouth flattened over his teeth. “Look, I’ll drop you at the clinic, then check on Dee Dee, but I’ll be back.”

“Fine,” she said, knowing that he had to look in on his child, but feeling disappointed nonetheless. All too quickly she was becoming dependent upon his strength.

At the clinic, Mason gunned the truck into a parking space near the ER entrance. Bliss was out of his pickup before it had completely stopped moving. “I’ll be back,” Mason promised, then drove off. Bliss nodded and straightened her shoulders. She’d get through this. Somehow. No matter what happened.

She strode through the automatic doors and found Brynnie, ashen-faced, wringing a shredded tissue in her hands. She was seated on the edge of one of the well-used plastic couches in the waiting area.

“How’s Dad?” Bliss asked.