The Single Dad (The Dalton Brothers 3)

She stopped by the front doors.

“Thank you,” I said to her.

“Go be with your husband and daughter.”

I couldn’t correct her.

I could only say, “Okay.”

I looked down and grabbed my phone.

I didn’t have a purse.

I didn’t have any money.

“I don’t have anything to give you,” I said. “Money or—”

“Nonsense. Go inside. Go help them.”

I didn’t know why, but I threw my arms around her neck, and I squeezed her.

So tightly.

And she squeezed me back.

I cried, “Thank you,” again.

The second we released each other, I rushed out the door and into the hospital.

“Everly,” I panted to the nurse at the front desk. “Everly Dalton. She’s in the ambulance.”

“I need you to calm down and catch your breath, so I can understand what you’re saying,” she replied.

I tried to swallow.

I tried to breathe.

And once there was enough air in me, I explained the situation to her.

“Come with me,” she said, and she led me to a private room. “Wait here. Someone will be in shortly.”

I didn’t have time to reply before the door shut.

And I was alone.

The room was all white.

Except for the door. That was brown.

And my hands. Those were brown too.

Covered in dirt.

Somehow.

I paced the small space, my hiking boots squeaking on the floor.

Back and forth.

I checked my phone, the screen showing me nothing, and I shoved it back into my pocket.

I didn’t know how many passes I’d made, but when I heard the door open, I froze mid-step and turned toward it.

Ford was walking in.

His arm in a sling, a bandage on his forehead, another on his neck.

I threw my arms around him. “You’re okay.” I pressed my cheek against his chest. “Thank God you’re okay.” I finally pulled my head back and reached up to his face, holding it, taking him all in. “How is she?”

He wrapped his uninjured arm around me and said nothing for a few seconds. “I don’t know. They took her somewhere, and they won’t tell me anything.”

“I called your mom. She’s on her way here. She’s going to get in touch with your brothers.”

Silence built between us as we stared at each other.

An aching quietness that I felt in my gut.

“That car”—his head dropped, his hand rubbing across the top of his hair—“it came out of fucking nowhere. I didn’t have time. I couldn’t …”

“Ford”—I gripped his good arm, shaking him, making him look at me—“this isn’t your fault.”

“But she’s back there. All by her-fucking-self. And she’s hurt. And that’s my fucking fault.”

“No, it’s not, do you hear me?” I squeezed him, trying to make him listen. “You did everything you could to help her. There’s nothing you could have done to stop that car from hitting us.”

“Fuck, Sydney!”

He got out of my hold and paced toward the chairs in the back of the room. When he reached them, he stood over the set, staring down at the metal and cushions. “She fucking needs me, and I can’t be with her.” One-handed, he lifted a chair into the air, held it over his head, and smashed it against the wall.

“Ford—”

“I’m supposed to fucking protect her.” The hinges that held the metal together snapped, sending the cushions across the room. “I promised her I would always protect her.” He lifted the second chair, but when he had it up, he didn’t smash it like the first one. He held it against his chest and then lowered it, gripping the armrest. “When I looked at her on that stretcher, she was so fucking tiny.” The emotion in his voice was thick, the tears in his eyes heavy. “She was in so much pain, enough that it made her pass out.” He looked up, our eyes connecting. “Oh God, what if she doesn’t make it?” His chest heaved. “What if she doesn’t survive?” He fell into the seat that he’d just been holding, his arm resting on his knee, his palm holding his forehead. “I can’t live in a world that Everly’s not in.”

I rushed to his side, falling to the floor in front of him, hugging his legs.

“She has to be okay, Sydney. She has to be.”

I clung to him even harder, pressing my face against his knee. “She will be.” I swallowed, my own tears dropping. “She’s going to be just fine.”

I didn’t move off the floor.

I stayed just like that, wrapped around him, giving him my comfort.

But it didn’t help.