I braced myself, expecting some kind of joke at my father’s expense, but there was nothing.

He stood and grabbed my hand.

“What hospital?” he said.

“St. Mary’s. So, you’ll handle the deal?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.

“Where are you going?” I asked when he stepped into the elevator with me.

“To St. Mary’s,” he said, looking at me like I was stupid.

“It’s okay. I’ll just get one of the SUVs if you don’t mind,” I said as we got off the elevator.

“Get in the car, Kayla,” he said.

I did and was still surprised when he circled it and got in the driver’s side.

Then we were off, and my mind was swirling with thoughts, emotions I didn’t want to tackle.

I just knew this couldn’t be the end.

My dad had so much life left to live, and I didn’t want to let him go.

I didn’t say anything, wasn’t even sure what was on my expression. But when Elias reached across the seat and squeezed my hand, I felt better.

We reached the hospital in what felt like record time but wasn’t really fast enough.

I looked at Elias when he stopped the vehicle. “Thanks. I’ll find a way back,” I said.

“I’m staying,” Elias responded.

I shook my head and started to protest. “Elias, you don’t need to—”

“I’m staying,” he repeated.

There was a finality in his voice, and in truth, I didn’t have the energy or focus to argue with him.

“I’ll wait for you out here,” he said.

I looked at him a moment, felt my chest constrict.

I knew exactly how he felt about my father, but he was putting that aside.

At least for now.

For me.

“Thank you,” I said. “If it starts to get too late, I’ll—”

“I’ll be here when you’re ready, Kayla,” he said.

I looked at him, the feelings that were coursing through me threatening to overwhelm me, taking my breath away.

I started to get emotional, felt tears start to gather.

He brushed his thumb along my cheek and then gave me a slight smile.

Then he pulled his hand away and propped his elbow on the car door.

It was enough to get me out of my stupor and moving.

So I did, going into the hospital, trying to be calm, but feeling frantic.

I walked to the information desk.

“I’m looking for a patient, Gary Dutton,” I said to the woman behind the desk.

She was calm, unbothered, but then I imagine she’d have to be. I didn’t know how she managed to deal with situations like these every day.

She tapped her computer screen. “He’s—”

“Kayla, over here,” I heard my mother call.

“Thank you,” I said to the woman before I turned and ran to my mother.