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Kaden was already at the table. Sliding past him, I boxed him hard on the arm, hoping to knock the ugly grin from his face.

“You know what that was for,” I growled and took the seat opposite him. His grin hadn’t budged a fraction of an inch. I rolled my eyes and looked instead at the breakfast Rachel had set out: scrambled eggs and fruit salad, bagels, bread and various spreads. She’d arranged it with such care. If Rachel went this far for breakfast, what would tomorrow’s Thanksgiving dinner be like? I could hardly wait.

“I’m sorry, but it was worth it,” joked Kaden, and I looked back at him. He had leaned back with his arms behind his head, and his eyes were sparkling in amusement.

“Right. Haha. So funny, I forgot to laugh.” My voice was dripping with sarcasm, even though I was about to give in and smile back. But I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction, so instead I pulled my cell phone from my purse to check if Dawn had called. I unlocked the screen and turned to stone.

Seven missed calls. None were from Dawn.

It was my mother.

Hesitating for a second, I erased the list of calls. I couldn’t care less about her drama and threats—I was spending Thanksgiving here, in Portland. Not in Lincoln.

Just then, as if she knew the phone was in my hand, Mom rang again. With an apologetic glance at Kaden, I got up to leave the kitchen. Once in the hallway, I answered.

“What do you want?” I barked into the receiver.

A sobbing came through the line. Uh oh. Mom hardly ever cried. My fingers tightened around the phone, my legs were turning to jelly.

“Mom?” I probed.

Again a stifled whimper.

“Mom, what’s going on?” I now begged. My heart seemed to stand still; I leaned against the wall. “Mom?”

Kaden came out into the hall. My widened eyes returned his questioning look.

“It’s your father,” Mom stammered. “Y-y-your father had an accident.”

My knees would buckle any second now. Suddenly it felt like I was looking at myself from the outside, slumped against the wall, pale, phone pressed to my ear.

“What happened?” My voice was failing. “Is he okay?”

“We just got out of the hospital. You have to come home right away. It doesn’t look good.”

The phone slipped from my hand; I broke out into a cold sweat and sank to the floor.

Dad was hurt.

Mom’s words rang in my year.An accident. It doesn’t look good. You have to come home.

Now everything was clear. I grabbed my phone and struggled to my feet. Kaden said something, but his words were lost on me.

“I have to go,” were the words that came from my mouth as I searched on my phone for flights from Portland International Airport to Lincoln Airport. While doing so, I climbed the stairs to Kaden’s room and, for a moment, leaned against the doorframe; then I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder, still looking at the phone. My pain felt distant. But my hands shook so much that I couldn’t read the display, no matter how hard I tried. A groan escaped me.

Kaden’s warm hand closed around my trembling fingers. I looked up at him, wide-eyed. But instead of sobbing as usual, this time I didn’t shed even one tear.

“What’s the matter, Bubbles?”

His thumbs ran smooth, soothing circles over the backs of my hands. But the adrenaline coursing through my body wouldn’t let me stand still. I shifted my weight from one leg to the other.

“You have to tell me what’s going on, Allie. Otherwise, I can’t help you.” Kaden’s deep voice was gentle. As if he were talking to a terrified animal. Maybe that’s how I looked.

“My dad,” I blurted out.

“Allie.” Kaden cupped his hands around my cheeks and tipped my head gently backward so our eyes could meet. “What happened?”

“Accident.” It was hard to speak. “My dad had an accident. I have to go… I have to get to Lincoln. Now.”