I swallow hard, fighting against the lump forming in my throat.
“Three minutes earlier or if it had tracked west, and we would’ve been...”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to.
Max whines softly, pressing his head more firmly against my hand like he can sense the darkness of my thoughts. I focus onthe warmth of his fur beneath my fingers, using it to anchor myself to the present.
“How did you get here?” I ask, suddenly realizing I don’t know how we made it from the devastated motel to this hospital.
“One of the first responders gave us a ride. You were...” Jonah hesitates, choosing his words carefully. “You were in shock and bleeding.”
I don’t remember much about getting into the ambulance. Everything after seeing Dad’s truck blurs together—rain, voices, and someone—Jonah, I think—telling me it would be okay. Nothing about this is okay.
“The EMTs were concerned about your feet,” Jonah continues, pulling me back to the present. “And you were unresponsive.”
I look down at the bandages, only now noticing the dull throb beneath the gauze. The pain feels far away, like it belongs to someone else.
“I remember walking to the truck,” I say slowly, the memory coming in pieces. “And then nothing.”
Jonah’s hand shifts like he might reach for mine, then stops, hovering for a second before dropping back to his lap. “You went into shock. The paramedics said it was a mix of the trauma, your existing injury, and the glass in your feet.”
I nod, taking it in without really feeling it. “What about our stuff? The equipment?”
“Gone,” Jonah says quietly. “Outside of our bags that I grabbed before it hit, nothing else made it.”
The loss stacks up, pressing down until it’s hard to breathe.
“The data?” I ask, the words sounding strange even to me.
“The data doesn’t matter right now, Lila. You do.”
Something raw snaps inside me. Heat surges through, burning away the numbness.
“Don’t tell me what matters,” I shoot back, pulling my hand from Max’s fur. “That data was everything. My dad’s equipment—his legacy—was everything. And it’s all gone because I agreed to this stupid partnership!”
Jonah flinches like I struck him. “Lila?—”
“No!” The word rips out of me, louder than I mean it. “If I hadn’t brought you along on this chase, if I hadn’t been so focused on showing you everything, none of this would have happened!”
Max whimpers, pressing closer to the bed as I raise my voice. I can’t stop now, the words keep coming, spilling out.
“I would’ve been in a different motel, or maybe nowhere near one. I’d have my truck. I’d have Dad’s equipment. The only things I had left of him—” The words catch, and I hate it—hate the tears pushing up behind them.
Jonah goes completely still. That hurts worse than anything—worse than my shoulder, worse than my feet. It’s like I’ve hit something so deep he’s shut down. I want him to push back, to tell me I’m being unfair, but he just sits there, taking it.
“I didn’t mean—” I start, but the words fall apart. Because part of me did mean it. In that moment, I meant all of it.
Jonah stands slowly, careful, like even the air between us might crack. “You’re right,” he says, so quiet I almost miss it. “This was my idea. I’ll take responsibility for the equipment with the university. You won’t be on the hook for any of it.”
“That’s not what I?—”
“You should rest,” he cuts in, avoiding my gaze. “The doctor said you need it.”
Max whines, looking between us like he can feel something shifting. Jonah gives a gentle tug on the leash, but the dog digs in, refusing to leave my side.
“It’s okay, buddy,” I murmur, scratching behind his ears one last time. “Go with him.”
Reluctantly, Max follows Jonah toward the door. At the threshold, Jonah pauses, his back to me. “I’ll make the arrangements for you. A motel, a rental car. Whatever you need.”
