“He’s in recovery and doing well,” Dr. Stevens said. “Once we got him stable, he hung in there like a champ.”

Darby covered her face with both hands, her body shaking as she cried. Kitsch stood next to her and pulled her gently to his side.

“He’ll be okay?” Darby asked, wiping her cheeks.

Dr. Stevens nodded. “He’ll need to take it easy for a while. The knife did some damage, but he’ll live.”

“When can we see him?” she asked.

“In an hour or so when he’s moved to a room from recovery. He’s in and out of consciousness now.”

I handed the baby to Darby. “He’s probably confused. Occupational hazard.”

“Yes, someone should be with him,” she said. She looked at Dr. Stevens. “Thank you.”

Dr. Stevens frowned, scanning the room. Martinez was covered in blood, Kitsch in dirt, and Trex had come in with stab wounds. We’d had a rough night, driving all the way to Texas to take Darby back from her ex. We’d found her just in time for her not to have her baby in the back seat of his car.

“The police are outside,” the doctor said. “They’ll be wanting to speak to all of you. Not sure what happened out there, but I’m glad you’re all okay.”

“We’ve been through worse,” I said.

I traveled up one floor with Steph. She showed me the way to recovery, side stepping as she spoke to me. “Normally, we would have flown Trex out, but Dr. Stevens moved back here from Boston to care for his mother. You picked the best hospital.”

“Good to know,” I said as she pushed back a curtain.

Trex looked like Zeke the last time I saw him, hooked to oxygen, heart monitors, and IV tubing.

“Hey,” I said, holding his hand.

He was still groggy, but he smiled.

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“Where’s Darby?” he asked.

“She has her own room in the maternity ward. She and Maddie are doing great. Maddie is beautiful.”

He tried to sit up, but I stopped him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can’t go anywhere yet. Darby will bring Maddie up to you once the anesthesia moves out of your system and you’re coherent.”

He set back, blinking and looking around, trying to wake up. “Have you spoken to Zeke?”

“Yeah. Watts took him home. I’m going back to take care of him once you’re out of recovery. He’s pretty bummed.”

“That you’re going to take care of him? I doubt that,” he said, sounding a little drunk.

My body decided to let exhaustion take over. “He got a bad diagnosis. It’s his heart.”

“What? How is that possible? He’s younger than me.”

“Hereditary.”

“Damn,” Trex said, grabbing my shoulder. “He’s going to be all right, though, right?”