I forced myself to move.
“Everything’s okay,” I lied. “I need to go out for a little while. I’m calling Miss Rachel.”
Our neighbor answered on the second ring.
“I’m walking over now,” she said, before I could even finish explaining.
I kissed both children quickly, grabbed my keys, and ran.
The highway lights blurred past my windshield as I drove. My hands shook so badly I had to grip the wheel hard.
Please let him be alive.
Please let him be okay.
But fear was not the only thing driving with me.
St. Margaret’s was on the wrong side of town.
Completely opposite from Daniel’s parents’ house.
The thought came quietly at first.
Then louder.
Why was he there?
I remembered the phone calls. The keychain charm. The late nights. The coffee smell.
Suspicion and terror twisted together until I could not tell which one hurt more.
By the time I reached the hospital, I was barely breathing.
Nurse Patel met me at the desk.
“He collapsed earlier this evening,” she said gently. “But he’s awake now.”
Relief nearly knocked me over.
