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She looked exhausted. She looked worried. She looked like the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

I was moving before I made the conscious decision to do so.

"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching her in a handful of strides. "I mean, is your mom okay? What happened?"

"She's okay."

I exhaled. Or tried to. "What does okay mean? Because my mom said she passed out, and people don't generally do that for fun."

A tiny smile tugged at her mouth as she took in a shaky breath. "No. They don't."

"Mikayla?"

"She's fine, Damon. Really."

I searched her face. "Tell me."

She sighed, lowering the pretzels to her side. "She has a severe sinus infection and an ear infection. Apparently, both have been getting worse for days, but she didn't tell anyone how bad she was feeling. She got dizzy this morning, stood up too fast, and passed out."

"Shit."

"Yeah." She nodded. "They ran tests. The doctor said the infections are pretty bad, but they're treating her. She should be fine."

"Should be?"

"Will be," she corrected gently. "She will be fine."

I nodded, letting the tension ease out of my shoulders. "Are they admitting her?"

"I don’t think so. They're giving her fluids and medication, and they want to make sure the dizziness is under control."

"Okay." I looked toward the hallway behind her. "Can I see her?"

Mikayla blinked. "You want to see my mom?"

"Well, I wasn't planning to ask her for her blessing or anything, yet. But yeah, I'd like to make sure she's okay."

Something flickered across her face. Something soft. Something that made me want to reach for her.

I didn't.

"She's resting," she said. "Dylan's with her."

Dylan’s with her. The way she said it indicated she didn’t want me to go see her. I tried, and failed, not to take that personally. "Oh, okay. Good."

"Yeah."

We stood there for a moment. The vending machine hummed beside us. A nurse pushed a cart past. Somewhere down the hallway, a phone rang.

I wanted to ask why she left without saying anything. I wanted to ask how she could do that. Instead, I asked, "What do you need?"

She frowned. "What?"

"Food? Coffee? A change of clothes? I can go back and grab whatever you need. If your mom needs anything, I'll take care of it."

"Damon—"

"I mean it. You don't have to worry about anything. If you need to go, I’ll take care of her. I’ll take care of everything."