“You sustained a mild traumatic brain injury,” the doctor said, “but you’re doing very well.”

God, she prayed.

God. That one word was the longest prayer she had the ability to form. “How—how can an injury be both mild and traumatic?” she asked Luke.

His lips twitched. “I’m not sure.”

“I’ve been out for four days?”

“Yes,” Luke confirmed.

“To give your body the best chance to heal,” the doctor said, “we put you in a medically induced coma. If you’re feeling disoriented, that’s normal.”

“I’m so disoriented.”

“Do you remember the events that led to your injury?” the doctor asked.

She opened her mouth to answer, and . . . no answer came. She couldn’t remember.

She’d been hurt. Why couldn’t she recall how?

Anxiety scratched up her throat.

“You doing all right?” Luke asked. Clearly, he’d read her expression.

She shook her head and began to cry.

Luke’s grip on her hand communicated warmth and steadiness.

“What’s the matter?” Bridget asked gently.

“Am I dying?”

“No,” the doctor answered.

“You’re going to make a full recovery,” Luke told her. “I won’t allow it to go any other way.”

Finley didn’t care if he was making a promise he couldn’t keep. His words—spoken with such certainty—were exactly what she needed to hear.

“I can’t remember how I got hurt,” she admitted.

“Not to worry,” Dr. Ellis said. “That’s to be expected. What’s the last thing you can remember?”

She groped around in her mind. “Luke’s truck. Getting in Luke’s truck to drive to the state park.”

“Good job, Finley,” Bridget murmured.

She and Luke had been going to the state park. To find her dad’s treasure. They hadn’t told anyone about that. Was it still a secret? Had something gone wrong with the treasure?

“When we were at the state park,” Luke said, “you fell several feet down a steep mountainside and hit your head. You were brought here for treatment.”

Her chin was quivering and her lungs were shuddering. She didn’t understand what was going on. She had a brain injury? Coma? She’d lost time. “I . . . might need to cry awhile longer.”

“Of course,” Bridget soothed.

Fear gathered around her like evil black smoke, but . . .

Luke was here. And he’d promised her she’d recover. She clung to his promise and his presence until the smoke began to fade.

Hospital staffers wheeled Finley on a gurney down hallways for scans. Once she returned to her room, they helped her sit up and dangle her feet over the side of the bed. The simple motion stirred a cyclone of dizziness.