He handed the duffel over, and I took it, recognizing it as one of my lesser-used ones I’d stashed at the top of my closet.

“She’s not my girl,” I muttered. “Thank you for bringing it to me.”

“Willow Bradley has always been your girl, Camden. Doesn’t imply any romance.” He arched an eyebrow.

“Right.” I swung the bag over my shoulder and unzipped it. She sent sneakers and a few sets of fresh clothes that varied from athletic gear to jeans to a pair of pressed khakis and dress shoes. I laughed as I brought out a Ziploc bag full of cookies.

God, she’s amazing.

“Yeah, she sure is. Said she owed you or something, since breakfast got ruined?”

Shit, I’d said that out loud.

There was a sparkle he couldn’t contain in his eye when I looked up. “I pulled her out of a snowdrift and took her to my house. It’s not like that.”

“I never said it was,” he replied, outright smiling. “I’m also not as blind as the rest of the men in your family.” That stare turned pointed.

“Should I be insulted?” I dropped the cookies into the duffel.

“Hardly. You Daniels boys were always a little thick when it came to seeing things you didn’t want to. Your mama knew what was what, though. Especially when it came to the Bradley girl.”

“Why would you—?”

Chaos broke out behind me.

“Help!” Xander shouted. I was through the door before he finished the word.

Dad thrashed on the bed, his eyes open and wild, panic obvious in every line of his face. Xander was almost on top of him, struggling to keep his arms down.

“Cam! Help, he’s trying to rip out the trach!” he shouted.

“Get the doc!” I ordered Walt, then dropped the bag and ran to the other side of Dad. “Dad, stop,” I pleaded.

He met my eyes, and his flared with recognition. Then he screamed, a distorted, horrifying, barely audible sound, around the tube that pushed his air.

Seeing Xander losing, I pushed down on Dad’s biceps as he flailed, fighting the intubation and arching his neck.

“I’m making it worse!”

“Don’t stop! He’ll rip it out, and his lungs can’t handle it yet!” Xander argued.

Dad slipped free and made contact with Xander’s chest, shoving him into the cabinet of medical supplies right behind him.

The strength I’d always been so proud of had now become a liability in a way I’d never imagined.

“Dad! Stop!” I shouted as he reached for the tracheotomy tube. God, he was going to have to go through it all again if he ripped it out. Xander would make them put it back in.

I gripped his wrists in each hand and forced them to the side of his head as the medical team barreled in.