Then Bob.
Then me.
Everything in him changes.
He sees the cap first. The sweatshirt. No makeup. The small bag hooked over my shoulder. The extra hoodie shoved under one arm. The keys already in my hand.
He understands before I say anything.
I did not come to report this.
I came ready to take him.
“What happened?”
No preamble.
No question about why I am there.
I step toward him before Silas can.
“Your mom,” I say. “She collapsed before they got far from home. It’s her heart — they’ve got her at Hill Country and they’re working on her. Your dad and the girls are with her.”
His hand tightens around the helmet.
“How bad?”
“They don’t know yet. Pressure, fluid around the heart, maybe the valve. Bill said they were still working on her when he called.”
His face does not move.
That is how I know the hit lands everywhere.
Silas steps in. “Ryan, we can have the helicopter ready by the final horn. Finish the third and we get you there fast.”
Ryan does not look at him.
His eyes stay on me, and the whole building falls away.
“No,” he says.
Silas starts, “Ryan—”
“We’re driving.”
He says it to me.
So I nod.
“Okay.”
Silas looks from Ryan to me like he just watched the two of us step outside a plan no one authorized.
“The helicopter is faster once it is in the air,” he says. “The car is four hours if the roads are clear.”
“Then we should already be moving,” Ryan says.
“Ryan, think about what you are doing.”
