He was silent down the two flights of stairs, didn’t argue again when she led him to her Ford F-250 parked in a spot off the alley. As she walked, she typed in a message to her brother, telling him they wouldn’t make it and why.

Once they were in her truck, she started the engine and asked him which hospital his mom was en route to. He swore, as if he hadn’t yet thought of that, and his large thumbs fumbled over his phone screen.

She studied him across the darkened cab as they waited for a response. She’d never seen him like this. Shaken to his core. Never seen him anywhere close to it, as he was generally an even-keeled guy who kept his emotions locked out of sight.

Without thinking about it, she reached out and put her hand on his forearm, wishing she could comfort him somehow.

“He’s typing,” Cole said, his eyes locked on the screen.

“Who’s he?”

“Gabe,” he answered absently, then seemed to realize she had no idea who Gabe was. “My brother.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” He’d worked for her for more than three years. How did she not know he had a brother? Or a mother who lived in town?

“Head to Oliver Medical Center.”

They were silent as she pulled out of the alley and into Saturday night traffic.

“Older or younger brother?” she asked.

“Both. Gabe is five years older.” He checked his phone every few seconds, as if willing it to give him more information.

“And the younger one?”

“Zane and Drake. Twins.”

“Four boys.” His mother must be a saint.

“Five. Mason’s the oldest. None of them like me much,” he said. “So you know.” He said it with zero emotion, but the fact that he said it at all conveyed more than his tone.

Sierra couldn’t help being curious about his family—and that he’d never before mentioned a single one of them. Though she made a point of not calling him or the rest of the crew her friends, he knew plenty about her family just through her mentions over the years. He’d met both her siblings multiple times and knew a lot about her parents, even though they lived in Arizona.

“What about your dad?” she asked hesitantly.

“He died when I was seventeen,” Cole said in a monotone, his gaze glued straight ahead.

She was not making anything better. “I’m sorry.”

“Long time ago.”

His phone sounded with another message. “Gabe made it to the hospital. The ambulance just pulled up.”

They were still about twenty minutes out, and she pressed harder on the gas pedal. Cole wouldn’t be able to do a thing to help his mom right now, but maybe he’d be able to see her soon.