Parr swore viciously and got up to pace, too upset to sit. She thought for a moment that he might punch the wall.

“Don’t take it out on the hospital,” she said quietly. “They’re doing everything they can.”

“Yeah? How do you know that?”

Still reeling inwardly from shock, Mary Beth thought to herself that for Parr Weston, fear equaled rage. Rage at the pain his loved ones had to suffer, rage at himself for being helpless to do anything, rage at the randomness of fate.

“Because I got here before you. I saw them being brought in from the ambulance. They let me stay with Alma.”

“At least she had you. If I’d known sooner—why were you called instead of me?”

She dropped her aching head into her hands. “I don’t know for sure. The paramedics checked the ICE contacts on Alma’s phone and reached me first, I guess.”

In case of emergency. He knew he was on his mother’s list. Parr fumed. He needed someone to blame. He needed reasons why the accident had happened. He had nothing to go on.

“You have a Tennessee area code. Mine is local,” she added.

“But—”

“Does it matter, Parr?” she snapped. “I called you right away.”

“Christ. Sorry.” He leaned against the wall and hung his head. “I know. I just wish—I should have been here.”

“You are now.”

“Yeah.” He straightened. “And I’m not going anywhere.” Parr looked at her, fear and pain and fury blazing in his eyes. “Neither are you.”

“Is that an order? What’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry again. What I meant was you don’t know how to do anything but the right thing.”

She shook her head, not meeting his gaze. The quarrel she’d had with Bobby Joe only hours ago preyed on her mind. Had the crash really been an accident? Or had he been so upset with her that he’d gone off the road?

“I’m not so sure about that,” Mary Beth replied in a low voice.

“I am,” Parr stated.

She waved away his reassurance. “Just drop it.”

“Okay.” He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before he began to pace again. “What now?”

“My dad’s on his way. I wish he had someone with him in the car. His night vision isn’t great. What if—” She looked up at him, her eyes welling with shining tears.

“Mary Beth . . .” He closed the distance between them with one stride. She rose and let him hold her, giving in to his comforting embrace with a sigh from the depths of her soul. The kisses he pressed to her forehead and wet cheeks had nothing to do with passion. They stood there, wrapped in silence, sharing the grief and uncertainty that had brought them to this place and left them to weep in each other’s arms.

Two weeks later . . .