What I really want is for the clock to turn back and to find some way to make my mother understand that my falling in love with Whitney Gable was a cause for celebration, not outrage. But that’s impossible, and now the only thing I can do is move forward and face the consequences.

With my head buzzing and the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my ears, I lead Whitney back toward the chopper as I wave at the pilot before he can take off. He shuts down the rotors and removes his headset.

“Sir?”

“We need to go back to Gable. To the hospital. There’s been an emergency.”

Four

Whitney

When the chopper touches down on the helipad in front of the Riscoff Memorial Hospital, my stomach tumbles until I’m afraid I might be sick. How I’m feeling has nothing to do with the helicopter ride and everything to do with the fact that my actions led us here. If I hadn’t come back to Gable to begin with . . . if I’d said no to Lincoln . . .

I have so many regrets, but what he said to me on the island keeps running through my head on repeat.

“I can’t apologize for loving you.”

No matter how insensitive it sounds, I can’t apologize for loving him either. I can’t deny pulling away from him was my first instinct, though. But what good would it do? Despite the guilt threatening to drown me, I know Lincoln is feeling everything even more acutely. If he’s not pushing me away because of what happened, how could I dare do it to him? I can’t.

This is my chance to prove that I can stand at his side and show the world we’re stronger together. Our first test starts now.

Lincoln releases my sweaty palm to climb out of the helicopter first. When he holds out his hand to help me exit, I take it and hold tight.

Barricades have been set up around the emergency room entrance, but they don’t stop the sound of the press yelling questions and the cameras from flashing.

I pretend I’m blind and deaf, a trick I picked up years ago, and walk straight forward, one foot after another, never letting go of Lincoln’s hand. Apprehension wraps tighter around my chest with each step, but I don’t let it show.

I remember how I felt the last time I approached this very door at his side. I was terrified that something horrible had happened, but part of me had refused to believe it was possible. This time, I already know that we’re walking into a terrible tragedy.

The man I love just lost his mother because he chose me over her.

She had a heart attack that killed her because of me. Or rather, her outrage over me.

I still can’t quite grasp how someone could hate me so much, but it doesn’t matter what I can or can’t grasp. It happened, and now it’s time to face the consequences.