What about the two of us?

I’m damned near in love with her because while it feels good to be back here in Seattle, I miss Carly something fucking fierce. All I want to do is get back to her. Get back in her.

Damn.

“The mayor hates us, Austin,” Chance says. “You saw him. What if he finds out the government is trying to freeze our funds?” He sighs. “His anger’s been aimed at only me since our father died. Now that you two are on the scene, he’s happily spread his dislike to you two. Except, Jesus, Austin. Falling for his daughter? Fuck, it’s a wonder you’re not behind bars on some trumped up charge or dead. Carly’s—”

“A grown woman,” I finish for him. “An intelligent twenty-seven-year-old woman who’s trying to take back her life, and she’s succeeding. If I can be a part of that, I want to be.”

“You sure she’s ready?” he says.

“That’s her decision, and—”

My cell rings and I answer it by accepting the call on the car’s display since I have it synced.

“Mom, you’ll be happy to hear—”

“Honey”—she cuts me off, her voice tinged with anxiety—“I’m headed to the hospital.”

“What?” I slam on the brakes and pull to the side of the road.

The car behind me honks, angry by my quick action, but I ignore it.

Chance offers me a concerned look but stays silent.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was lightheaded. Blood pressure, I think. I fell in the bathroom.”

Fuck. Her master bath is small which means lots of hard edges to strike.

“How are you hurt?” I clench the wheel, wishing I could take this burden from her.

“They’re worried I broke my hip. I’m with nice paramedics and they’re taking care of me.”

Shit. She was alone and had to call 9-1-1. And a broken hip? That will be a huge setback in so many ways. She seems calm enough, but she may already be on pain meds—and if she is, that means it’s bad. Possible surgery, rehab. Her house is one floor but not the best for a wheelchair. She’ll need help. That means me or money for an aide.

“Which hospital?” I ask, not jumping too far ahead.

“St. Anne’s.”

“We’ll meet you there.”

Before I can even end the call, I get another. Carly’s name replaces Mom’s on the display.

“All right, sweetheart,” Mom says, hanging up.

I haven’t spoken to Carly since we left and this isn’t the best time. I’m aching to hear her voice, to listen to her talk about the animals on the ranch. Hell, I’ll even listen to talk of shoveling manure if she’s the one doing it.

Except I can’t do it now. Not on the way to the ER and not with Chance and Miles in the car.

Looking over my shoulder, I pull a U-turn and floor it toward the hospital closest to Mom’s house. It’s ten minutes away, but at least I know she’s breathing and headed to St. Anne’s.