“Hello? Ma'am, are you still there?"

Elizabeth Wilson's voice was soft but steady. "Yes, we're on our way now."

"All right. The doctors are doing everything they can, so please don't rush. Drive safely."

But Tristan Davis felt far beyond anxious. It was as if a fire was raging inside his chest, squeezing his heart until every muscle in his body ached. His head throbbed, his lungs felt like they might burst, and his stomach twisted with a pain so sharp he could barely breathe.

All he could see in his mind were flashes of a blood-spattered stuffed puppy and shards of shattered glass.

He slammed his foot on the gas and jerked the steering wheel, weaving in and out of traffic, overtaking car after car. The wild movements tossed both of them from side to side.

Elizabeth bit her lip. She knew exactly how torn up Tristan was right now, but the truth was, her own heart was breaking too. "How much longer?”

"Give me ten more minutes," Tristan said, his voice tight and low.

By the time they reached the hospital, Emily Blair had already been moved out of the emergency room and into the ICU.

Through the glass wall, Tristan could see her lying motionless in the hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and wires, a thick bandage wrapped around her head, an oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose. Her eyes were closed. The only proof she was still alive was the faint mist on the inside of the mask and the steady beeping of the monitors beside her.

It was hard to believe that just a few hours ago, she'd been sharing a meal with family and friends. Now she looked like a completely different person.

Elizabeth took one look and her eyes filled with tears. She couldn't stop them from streaming down her cheeks.

Tristan pressed both palms against the glass, staring desperately at the woman on the bed.

He couldn't even begin to describe what was happening inside his chest-what was happening to his heart.

In that moment, seeing Emily, his mind went completely blank. He couldn't feel his own breath or hear his own heartbeat. All he could sense was her—lying there, fragile, each breath a precious gift he was terrified of losing.

"Emily Blair..."

Elizabeth, still sobbing, heard the whisper. She looked over, eyes rimmed red.

Tristan had his forehead pressed against the glass, his whole body leaning into it as if he could will himself through to her side.

Elizabeth was crying so hard she could barely stand it, but suddenly she noticed a droplet sliding down the glass in front of Tristan.

For a second, she was confused. She touched her own cheeks and eyes-no, it wasn't her tear. She looked up at the ceiling, wondering if there was a leak.

But the ceiling was spotless, gleaming white, no sign of water anywhere.

She was still lost in her own grief when, a few seconds later, she heard a quiet, broken sob.

It came from Tristan.

Tristan Davis was crying.

Before long, a nurse noticed them and fetched the attending physician, who came out to speak with them at length.

Elizabeth barely registered most of what he said. The words that stuck in her mind were: severe head trauma, intracranial bleeding, fractured ribs, multiple internal injuries-Emily was still in critical condition, and every hour was touch-and-go.

The doctor also mentioned the man who'd been with Emily-Alex White. Because he'd been in the passenger seat, his injuries were far less severe. After being stabilized, he'd already been moved to a regular room.

Just hearing Alex's name, both Tristan and Elizabeth immediately pieced together what must have happened.

After the doctor left, the police arrived.

Elizabeth forced herself to pull it together, tugging Tristan's sleeve in silent warning.

The officers explained that the truck driver responsible for the accident had been drunk and out of his mind, which led to the tragedy. He was now in custody at the station, being questioned. The truck's insurance company was handling the necessary procedures.