Heart in his throat, Mitch bolted toward the ER from the hospital parking lot. He hadn’t been able to breathe since he got the call that Tess had been in an accident. That had been forty-five minutes ago, and he still knew nothing other than the ambulance had rushed her to the hospital. He’d floored his gas pedal as he raced back from Lawley, sending disjointed prayers up to the Almighty that she just be okay.
He burst through the automatic doors into the ER, practically crashing into the reception desk. “Tess Peyton. Where is she? What’s going on?”
The nurse on duty wasn’t familiar. Her no-nonsense expression didn’t shift as she fixed steely blue eyes on him. “Sir, I’m going to need you to calm down.”
Calm down? How the fuck was he supposed to be calm when he knew nothing, not even whether Tess was alive or dead? Curling his hands around the edges of the counter, Mitch struggled to keep some of the panic out of his voice. “Teresa Anne Peyton was brought in about an hour ago. Car accident. She’s pregnant. I need to know what’s going on.”
“Are you family?”
“She’s the mother of my child.” Tess would hate being reduced to that, but what else could he say after last night?
The woman’s fingers tapped at a keyboard in a slow hunt and peck. How the hell could someone who worked with computers not know how to type? Before he could take off the nurse’s head for not being faster, someone called his name.
Sandy crossed the industrial tile floor, her heels echoing in the mostly empty space. His parents, Grammy, Cecily, Cam, and Norah took up one corner. God, was this an all-hands-on-deck sort of vigil?
Mitch abandoned the front desk. “Where is she? Is she all right?”
“She’s stable.”
Stable. That wasn’t the same as all right.
His knees wobbled and his stomach bottomed out. He was too afraid to ask about the baby. “What the hell happened?”
“She was on her way to meet Brody out at the job site. Her car was hit. The other driver was texting.”
Rage washed his vision red. Her life, the life of his child, were in danger because some asshole couldn’t wait to get where he was going. “How bad?” He gritted out the words as he clenched and unclenched his fists.
“They’re still running tests. Trey’s back with her now.”
Even as she spoke, the double doors leading back to the patient areas opened and Trey came through. Mitch made it over to the other man in three strides, scanning his face for the answers he so desperately needed. Stress, but no terror or grief. That was probably a good sign, right?
“She’s okay.”
Words weren’t enough. “I have to see her.” He needed to touch her. Needed real, verified proof that she was going to be fine.
Mitch started to push past him, to catch the door that hadn’t quite swung shut, but Trey slapped a hand against his chest. “You need to calm the hell down. The last thing she needs right now is to see you upset. Can you do that?”
He felt like he was flying apart as all the fear and worry and anger coalesced inside him. But he’d do whatever had to be done to get to Tess, so he simply nodded and obediently followed the other man into the labyrinth behind the doors.
Outside her room, Trey stopped him. “She looks a little rough. It’s important that you keep your head. Got it?”
Mitch nodded and took several breaths to brace himself before easing into the room.
Tess lay in a hospital bed, eyes closed. An ugly bruise at her temple was bisected by a white swatch of bandage. More bruises and abrasions were visible where the hospital gown had slipped off her shoulder. From the seatbelt, probably. An assortment of monitors beeped with steady rhythms, but there was no oxygen, no IV. That was good, right?
Mitch stepped closer, his feet scuffing on the tile, and she opened her eyes. Relief flashed across her face, and that unguarded emotion had him crossing the room, taking her hand.
Her fingers curled tight in his and held on. “Hi.”
“You scared ten years off my life. Are you okay?”
“I’ve felt better. I’ve got a concussion, and I’m banged up pretty good, but they tell me nothing’s broken. My blood pressure is up and they’re checking a few more things, but I’m going to be fine.”
Mitch exhaled and reached to drag over a chair because his knees weren’t altogether steady. He pressed their joined hands to his cheek. “Thank God. And—” His gaze dropped, at last, to her belly.
“They’re still running tests, but the heartbeat is good and there’s no sign of bleeding. No cramping.”
The last of the fear let go its stranglehold on his chest. Overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, he pressed his face to the bed. “I thought I’d lost you.”