Before he could put his phone away, his father wrapped his powerful arms around his son, and Jonathan let him, pressing his eyes against his dad’s shoulder. His father held the back of his head, just as he had when Jonathan was a child.
“Thanks for coming, Dad.”
“Always, boy. You scared me when you didn’t answer,” he chided, “but I understand. If it were your mother…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.
“Patrick, please,” his mother tried to pry between them. His dad gave him one last squeeze before stepping back. His uncle Bran gave Jonathan a nod and put his arm around his brother.
“Thanks for coming, Mom.” And of course, he wasn’t only hugging his mother, but his aunts, Raven and Rowan. They patted, kissed, and cried over his chest.
He sent a desperate look his dad’s way, but of course, he only shrugged.
Endure.
“Are you hurt, Jon?” His mother pulled back and asked, running her hands over his head, which she could barely reach, and over his arms.
“Throat’s a little sore from the smoke, but I’m fine.”
“Patrick,” Raven barked. “What are you doing just standing there? Call a doctor. Jon should be thoroughly checked out.”
Thankfully, his mother knew him well. “We can do that after, Rave, once Mags wakes up and Jon can see for himself that she’s going to be okay.”
Rowan touched his cheek, garnering his attention. “But you will get checked out. Soon,” she said softly.
“I promise, Aunt Row. Don’t worry,” he added, hating the tears pricking her eyes. But before he could get too emotional over his aunt’s distress, she turned to his dad, Bran, and Ulf. “You three will make sure he does.”
Daniel used the distraction to close the distance between them and hugged him close. “I wish I could have been there to help, Jon.”
“I could have used it,” he huffed and shook his head, remembering the nightmare of the stairs and finding Mags.
“Mags is too much of a fighter to be knocked down for long,” Daniel encouraged.
“I know,” Jonathan said, swallowing a lump in his throat.
“I called everyone. They should be here any minute. Blair was giving a lecture to first years.” Jonathan could only nod. He knew their friends would rally, and he was glad for it. When Mags woke up, she would be happy to see everyone.
And she would wake up. Anytime now.
Jonathan’s attention was snagged when a nurse bustled in, an overflowing clipboard clutched in her hand.
“Family of Margaret Morrow?” she queried the room.
Jonathan stepped forward. “Her family should be here within the hour. I’m her fiancé. Is she awake?”
“No, but she is beginning to twitch her fingers, which is a good sign. We’re done with the tests for now and putting her in a room. If you follow me, Mr.—”
“O’Faolain.
“Mr. O’Faolain,” she repeated. “Fine, then. I’ll take you to see her.”
“Thank you,” he said, nodding. “Oh,” he said, searching for the two men he needed to speak to, “Eze. Nasir. Would you mind staying? Mags will want to see you both when she wakes up.”
They both gave a slight bow. “Of course.”
“I’ll text you when Charles and Aileen get here,” his dad said as Jonathan was being led from the waiting room.
There was already a nurse in the room fiddling with Mags’ IV port and blocking his view. He rushed to the other side of the bed, and there she was. Her wild brown hair spread out like waves over the white hospital sheets, so fragile.
Someone had attempted to wipe the soot from her cheeks, but it had only smeared the grime, and yet she was still so stunningly beautiful that it hurt to look at her.
