“Soon,” a doctor says, stepping forward.“Her x-rays look good. No fractures or internal injuries, but we need to monitor her lungs carefully. Smoke inhalation can have delayed effects, and we want to make sure she’s safe overnight.”
My stomach twists tighter, a cold, churning knot.“So… we stay?”
“Yes,” the doctor confirms.“One night for observation. Tomorrow morning, she should be ready to go home, provided everything continues to look stable.”
A nurse wheels Mia into my hospital room, Ethan at her side, holding her tiny hand. Relief hits me like a wave, at least I won’t be separated from her. The wheels squeak slightly on the linoleum, and the faint scent of antiseptic mixes with the faint sweetness of Mia’s shampoo.
“Mommy,” she says, her voice hoarse, and she starts coughing again, clutching her tiny chest.“I’m right here, pumpkin.” I force myself to smile at her, refusing to let her fear take over.
Ethan’s presence forms a protective wall around her, solid, unyielding. He gently carries Mia from one bed to her new hospital bed right next to mine, keeping her calm, whispering soothing words. I can’t stop staring at him. He’s shed his firefighter coat, wearing a black t-shirt that shows his muscled, tanned forearms as he cradles her. His focus is unwavering. A smudge of soot on his face somehow makes his green eyes look sharper, more intense. The fluorescent lights catch the curve of his jaw and the taut line of his lips, and my heart skips a beat.
I try to get up to reach Mia, but the nurse gently stops me.“You need to rest.” Her hands are warm on my arm, grounding me, reminding me I’m fragile too.
As soon as the nurse leaves, I look at Ethan.“Please help me into her bed. I need to hold her,” I plead.
He doesn’t hesitate. He helps me stand, my head spinning lightly, and wraps his arm around me, guiding me into Mia’s bed. The crisp hospital sheets rustle beneath us.
“Mommy,” she whispers. I pull her into my arms and inhale her scent, a mix of baby lotion and warmth, as her tiny, warm body curls into mine. She falls asleep almost immediately. I glance at my phone, it’s almost one in the morning, the digits glowing softly in the dim hospital light.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Ethan.
“Don’t mention it,” he replies, his green eyes sharp, like they want to say more but can’t.
I hear a noise and turn my head. The door bursts open, and the entire Hawthorne family floods the room, well, except for Jace, who’s touring as a professional bull rider. The room suddenly feels alive with presence, soft whispers, and quiet steps on linoleum.
Lily steps forward first, her eyes soft but alert.“Summer,” she says, holding a bag of clean clothes for me.“You’ll need these.” She sets the bag down and comes over to hug me, the warmth of her embrace grounding me.
Josh is beside her, steady and grounded, his hand on my shoulder.“We’ll take care of both of you,” he says firmly.“How did they let you in at this hour?” I laugh, the sound shaky but relieving some tension.
“Lily can be persuasive,” Josh grins proudly at his wife.
“We only have ten minutes, but we wanted to make sure you’re all okay.” Lily gently runs her hand over Mia’s sleeping form, the softness of her touch sending a wave of relief through me.
Cas, in his sheriff’s uniform, steps close and crouches slightly to meet my eyes.“I know you must be worried about your home, but you two are safe now. That’s all that matters.” His usual confident grin is replaced by concern, and it makes my chest ache.
Penny hugs me tightly, her voice warm and fierce.“I’ve got Mia’s clothes from the last time I babysat her,” she says, handing me the bag.“She’s going to be okay, Summer. You hear me? She’s okay.” I blink away tears.
Dex leans against the doorway, arms crossed, a hint of a smirk on his face, but his green eyes sharp with worry.“I’m glad you’re okay.”
Jude lingers near the window, dark eyes unreadable, but when Mia coughs, he steps closer and mutters,“They did all the tests?” Broody, silent, protective. I nod.
“Good,” he says, then goes back to stand by the window.
Grace, eighteen and Mia’s babysitter, kneels beside the bed, offering her favorite books.“She won’t be bored,” she whispers, brushing Mia’s hair from her forehead. The pages of the books smell faintly of ink and paper, oddly comforting in the sterile room.
I can hardly breathe at the sight of it all. I’m not used to so many people caring for us so fiercely. My chest tightens, tears streaking my face. Ethan’s hand never leaves mine. He’s there, shielding me, grounding me, and the way he looks at Mia, the gentleness, the awe, the careful protectiveness, makes my heart ache in ways I can’t name. Every subtle brush of his hand against mine tells me he cares. He cares about her. Cares about me. But he knows better than to push.
Lily and Josh pull me into a hug, then bend to kiss Mia on her little head to say goodbye.
Mia stirs, her sleepy voice breaking through.“Mommy… my new coat! My gloves! My hat! My scarf! They’re gone!”
I choke out a sob.“I know, pumpkin. I know…” My heart breaks, weighed down by all we’ve lost, our little life, our home, the safe bubble I tried to build for her.
“Mommy, where will we live now?” Mia whispers, her eyes wide, big and luminous in the soft hospital light.
“Don’t worry, pumpkin.” I glance at Penny.“I could turn the pantry at the coffee shop into a room for us…”
“No way.” Ethan and Penny say it simultaneously.
