Page 166 of Sunrise & Serenity

Something immediately feels wrong.

“Where’s Sage?” The question comes too fast. Too sharp.

His expression falls. “Oh shit.”

Ice slides straight through my veins. “What happened?”

Dad appears in the hallway, his face drawn and tired. And I know, before he says anything, I know.

Fear crashes through me, my stomach twisting violently. “Where is she?”

“She’s in the hospital, son,” Dad says quietly.

My world stops. “What?”

“She and Taryn were getting a calf unstuck this afternoon.” He steps onto the porch. “Sage fell.”

Every muscle in my body goes taut. “Is she okay?”

“She hit her head hard. She was unconscious for a while, and they were worried about a small bleed at first⁠—”

“What do you mean, worried?”

His expression tightens. “The first scan wasn’t clear, so they kept her for more tests. They ruled out a bleed, but she has a pretty bad concussion. She was awake when we left, but they’re keeping her overnight for observation.”

Some of the panic loosens in my chest. Not enough. Not even close.

I drag a shaky hand across the back of my neck as the breath leaves my lungs. “Why didn’t somebody call me?”

River and Dad exchange a look, faces shuttered. Right. Because I walked away. Because they assumed I’d chosen my priority, and it wasn’t Sage. While I was away, stupidly trying to reclaim a past version of myself, they were here, looking after her.

I should’ve been here. The thought hits instantly and viciously, guilt crashing through me. Same helpless panic. Same sick feeling I’ve spent twelve years trying to outrun.

“We just got home from there. She’s okay,” Dad repeats firmly, like he knows where my head just went.

I nod once, even though my chest still feels tight enough to split open.

Grimacing, River kicks at the dusty floorboards of the porch. “One more thing.”

Dread crawls through my stomach. “What?”

“Sage’s parents are here. They got in about an hour ago.” He exhales carefully. “Her ex is with them.”

Anger flashes hot and immediate beneath the panic clawing through me. For one hard second, I consider driving straight through the hospital doors. I turn sharply back toward the truck.

“Holden.”

Breathing hard, I stop.

Dad’s expression softens beneath the porch light. “She said your name. When she woke up.”

Relief, fear, and regret collide painfully inside me.

Before he can say another word, I climb into the truck and tear out of the driveway.

CHAPTER 42

HOLDEN