“Okay, sir. I’ll dispatch EMTs immediately. What’s your address?”

I rattled off the address of The Gables, instructing her to direct the medics to the smaller guest house. “What do I do? Should I roll her onto her back? She looks like she’s in pain.” Panic was edging into my voice now. I wanted to help her. My Brown Eyes. She looked so small and broken, and I had to fix it.

“Please don’t move her, sir, we don’t know if there’s been a spinal injury. Wait for the EMTs.”

I stayed put, laying a gentle hand on Kenna’s shoulder. The t-shirt she wore was torn, slipping off slightly so that my palm made contact with her golden skin. She was warm. That had to be a good sign, right?

My eyes closed on a silent prayer. Please. Don’t take her from me.

I paced up and down the hospital hallway. It had been hours, and I still had no answers. No updates on Kenna other than that she’d been in and out of consciousness. No information from the police. Only endless questions. When I’d bitten Parker’s head off for the third time, he’d finally given up, telling me that he’d call with any news.

I didn’t care about that right now, all I cared about was the woman I loved and making sure she was okay. Safe and whole and looking up at me with those amber eyes so full of love and acceptance, I couldn’t breathe. I spun around and dug my knuckles into the cold hospital wall. I ached to punch it, to distract myself from the agony in my chest with a different pain in my fists.

A firm hand clamped down on my shoulder. “She’s going to be okay.”

I let my head fall against the plaster of the wall. “You don’t know that, Ford. The doctor still hasn’t been out to give us any updates, and it’s been two hours.”

“The girls are talking to someone at the nurses’ station now, trying to get news. These kinds of things take time. Kenna’s in the best place she could be. They’re taking good care of her.”

I pushed off the wall. Ford was right. I needed to stay positive. Kenna had been airlifted to Seattle Memorial. The EMTs had worked as fast as possible to get her stabilized and moved. But I’d never felt more powerless than when I’d sat back in that helicopter and watched them work, struggling to catch as many words as I could to make sense of what was happening.

A woman with gray hair tied back in a low bun appeared in the hall. “Kenna Morgan’s family?”