“Science fiction,” he ground out, pain in his voice.

Kincaid hurried through the cluttered store, dodging displays, and found Charlie on the floor, clutching the front of his shirt, a pile of books spilled next to him and a look of anguish on his face.

Kincaid dropped to her knees, panic filling her. “Charlie.”

“Chest. Can’t—”

Shit. Adrenaline zipped through her, making her tremble. Kincaid yanked her phone out of her purse and dialed for help as quickly as her fingers would allow her. “Okay, hang on, Charlie. Just breathe.”

The 911 operator answered immediately, and Kincaid reported everything she was seeing. She grabbed Charlie’s hand, finding his fingers clammy. “He’s cold. And pale.” Hang on, Charlie.

“Stay on the line, ma’am.” The operator said an ambulance was being dispatched.

Kincaid murmured words of encouragement to Charlie, her heart like thunder in her throat. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to help, but she didn’t want to move him or make anything worse. “It’s going to be okay, Charlie. I’m here.”

Heavy footsteps thumped behind her. “What’s going on? I heard a crash.”

Kincaid turned, phone still on her ear, and found Ash staring down at the two of them in wide-eyed horror. The dispatcher asked her more questions, and she answered as if she were on autopilot. “Yes, chest pains. I don’t know for how long. I found him on the floor. Yes, he’s still conscious. No, I don’t know CPR. Ash?”

Ash was taking all of it in as she spoke. He shook his head and dropped down next to Kincaid, his eyes on Charlie. “I don’t. I’m sorry. Mr. Lowell, can you hear me? Help is on the way.”

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut. “Stop calling me that, boy.”

Ash smiled, though Kincaid could see the fear in his eyes. “Sorry, sir.”

Charlie looked like he was going to protest the sir, too, but then he said something else instead. “Tell Grace I love her.”

“Oh, hell no,” Kincaid said, squeezing his hand. “You listen to me, Charlie. You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to tell her yourself.”

He had to. Grace had lost enough in her life already. Kincaid had seen her face when she’d found out about Graham. That woman wouldn’t survive another blow.

Ash met Kincaid’s gaze and saw her own fear reflected there. Without warning, she was yanked back to that night. Images flashing in her vision. Blood all over her, not her own. Her head pounding. Shock turning her cold and stiff. Her thoughts scrambled from the concussion. Graham nowhere to be found. Ash holding her, refusing to let her run back inside.

The pieces were always the same. The aftermath but never the event itself. Big swaths of blankness in her brain. Some said her memory loss was a blessing, but scary things hid in that darkness and changed faces all the time.

“You’re staying here with us,” Ash said, his voice blending with the nightmare in her mind. “Don’t try to get out of it.”