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I mirrored her, though I couldn’t speak.
The image of Penelope’s lifeless body was burned in my brain.
Her condition . . . it was bad.
My beautiful girl was so battered.
I didn’t want her to be in any pain. I didn’t want her to suffer.
But I couldn’t let her go.
I hadn’t even told her I loved her through the windows.
I hadn’t said anything when we’d been given the moment outside her ICU room.
That long, flat beep wouldn’t leave my head.
She couldn’t be gone.
They’d save her. They had to save her.
“Penelope.”
JoJo’s wail replaced the noise of the machine.
I pulled her into my arms. We rocked together.
Please, God. I’ll do anything. Just please don’t let my daughter die.
I hadn’t cried since I was a kid, but I was crying now.
I’d never been through anything this painful. I felt as though my limbs were being ripped off one by one. Like my heart was breaking into a million shards.
JoJo’s strangled cry tore at whatever was left in my chest. She shook violently, chanting Penelope’s name over and over.
I heard another cry and realized it was my own anguished voice.
Let her live. Please. Take me. I’m not worth keeping. She is.
She had to pull through, because if she didn’t, it would only prove one thing.
I had failed.
If I hadn’t been so anxious to have JoJo to myself, Penelope would’ve ridden with us. She would’ve been safe.
This was my fault.
I was her father. It was my job to protect her.
My legs went numb as we sat for I didn’t know how long.
The door creaked open, and Dr. Schaffer stepped inside. She looked down at us on the floor, a complete mess.
But I didn’t care about anything except Penelope.
“She’s stable. We’re still working on her, but we were able to resuscitate Penelope.”
Relief flooded me. “She’s going to be okay.”
