Finding Our Course (Finding our Way 3)

I don’t know how long I sleep, but when the cold cloth presses against my head, I am in a daze. My head swims with grogginess, and I reach up to wipe my face.

“Wake up, Devon. You need to wake up!” Quinn’s voice breaks through my haze enough for me to crack my eyes. The bright light in the room blinds me, so I try to roll over and cover my head.

“Devon, this is important. Please, please, wake up.” Her voice now pleads with me, and I turn into her.

“What?” I croak.

“You have to sit up and look at me.”

When my eyes finally open fully and focus on her face, I jump and scramble back, banging her headboard. The look on her face is absolute terror.

“What’s wrong?”

She reaches for me, and her intensity causes my heart to race.

“Your mom called. There’s been an accident.”

I try to clear my mind and focus on her words. “An accident? Is she okay?”

“Devon, she’s fine. The accident was on the ship.”

“The ship?”

She nods slowly. “Dev, it’s Nate. He’s been hurt.”

“Hurt!” I scream. “Is he okay?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and dread slams into my chest. “Karen said they don’t know much. There was an explosion on the ship, and Nate was on shift. It’s touch and go, critical.”

“Oh my God!”

“Come on. We need to get packed, and I’m driving us to Norfolk. No matter what, we’ll be there.”

I nod in silence, scared to speak. Her words replay in my head—Nate’s hurt.

She runs around her room in a flash, packing a bag and giving me a minute to absorb the news. I can tell she’s scared, too, but is trying to hold it together for me.

“Dev, it’s four a.m. We’re leaving at daybreak. The first sliver of light, we’re on the road. That gives you a few hours. Do you want me to pack for you?”

I nod again in silence, unable to speak.

She leaves, and I hear her on the phone.

Suddenly, images and memories of my brother fill my head. So strong, so smart, so kind and loving. My mind then goes into overdrive.

Someone needs to call Jamie.

Bryce is no doubt a wreck.

My mother is freaking out.

Dad is probably barely holding it together.

I find my phone on Quinn’s nightstand and dial home. The minute my mom’s tear-strained voice comes on the line, I lose it.

“Mama,” I rasp.

“Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby,” she cries.