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Something isn’t right.
She swiped the screen and answered, “Hello?”
“Emma—” His voice caught, fear bleeding into the space between them.
“What’s wrong? Is Dad okay?”
Silence was her only answer.
No, no, no, no, no, no.
Emma stepped away from the noise.
A fan thrust a pad of paper and Sharpie in front of her face. “Can I get your autograph?”
Emma shook her head and pushed past her, finding a storage closet as dark as the cloud looming over her. “Link?” She choked back her rising panic.
His voice was gruff, haggard, like he was barely holding it together. She’d never heard him like this. “His heart . . . You need to come home.”
“I’m coming.” Emma pulled the phone away, ending the call with a shaky hand as her body trembled. Her lungs squeezed tight as she opened the door and walked back into the lounge. Laughs and squeals faded into the hum of background noise as the world around Emma darkened. The blackness of despair lapped at her feet.
“Em? Are you okay?” Callie sounded like she was in a wind tunnel.
Emma shook her head. “I have to get home. My dad—”
She swallowed. A new surge of adrenaline rocked through her body, sharpening her senses.
“I need a flight to Shattered Cove five minutes ago.”
Callie nodded, seemingly understanding the importance. “Let’s get you to the airport, then.”
Dad is going to be okay. He had to be. He was the only one who’d ever really loved and cared for Emma, even though they weren’t blood related. He was the only one who’d ever chosen her.
“There’s a flight to Boston leaving in forty-five minutes,” Callie offered.
“Book it.” Emma ducked into the SUV, not bothering with her seat belt.
The driver broke the speed limits to get them to the airport. But something told her that—even with the fastest jet plane—it would be too late.
2
Emma
Emma rushed through the hospital doors and past the front desk, her throat too clogged with emotion to speak. Her stomach twisted with anxiety as she made her way to the ICU. As she ran through the hall, each step was heavy with the weight of dread bearing down on her. Part of her wanted to rush forward and see her papa—the other was terrified of what she’d find. The double doors opened, and the tall figure of her stepbrother exited. She sucked in a sharp breath.
His solemn watery gaze flicked to hers. Grief shone back. “You’re too late.”
She shook her head. “No.” Her chest squeezed tight. Pain lanced her rib cage as her heart was torn to shreds. Her eyes prickled. Blinking, she kept the tears at bay. Shove it down.
“He’s gone—” Link’s voice broke, his shoulders slumping. A devastated expression crumpled his beautiful, strong features.
She moved, wrapping her arms around him. His chest deflated before his hand splayed out against her lower back. Even through the grief, his touch brought her comfort. She hoped hers did the same.
“Can I see him?” she asked.
Link pulled away and nodded, his bloodshot eyes looking anywhere but at her.
Maybe it was the shock that wracked her body, giving her the courage. She reached out, her hand running over his short beard, turning his face towards her. “Link?”
