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A warm hand brushed against hers. “Morning, sweetheart,” her mom’s voice was soft, familiar, steady.

Ruth turned toward her mother’s voice, instinctively reaching for her. Her mom’s hands, warm and strong, enclosed hers, grounding her in the unseen world around her.

“You slept well,” Charlotte murmured, squeezing gently. “I’ve been sitting here, just waiting for you to wake up. Didn’t want you to feel alone.”

Ruth swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

There was a pause, then her mother’s voice brightened with an easy warmth. “It’s a cold morning; March is still clinging to winter. There’s frost on the windows, but the sun is out, finally. It’s one of those mornings where you can feel spring trying to push through.”

Ruth closed her eyes, picturing it: the thin, bright sunlight stretching across ice-laced windows, the crisp air, the slow promise of change.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Charlotte’s thumb brushed over the back of Ruth’s hand.

Ruth exhaled slowly. “Tired,” she admitted. “And frustrated, I guess.”

“One step at a time, sweetheart. We’ll get through today first.” She gave Ruth’s hands another squeeze before letting go. “I’ll help you as much as you want to get ready, then we’ll walk over to the acute care unit at the Institute. Tristan’s going to give you a once-over and draw some blood. Nothing too intense.”

Ruth sighed. She had been poked and prodded enough over the past few weeks that another blood draw hardly fazed her.

“After that, you can have some breakfast,” her mom added with a smile in her voice. “And coffee.”

At the mention of coffee, Ruth sighed dramatically. “Oh, God. Coffee. I love coffee.”

Her mom chuckled. “I know. And trust me, you’ll need it today. After breakfast, they’re going to take you in for a CT scan.”

At that, Ruth tensed.

“Tristan and James bought one. They have it on the Institute’s grounds.” Her mom paused. “The doctors will decide where to go from there. No matter what, we’re going to figure this out.”

Ruth chewed the inside of her cheek, her thoughts spinning away from tests and medicine.Noah.A pit of worry settled deep in her stomach, and before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out, “I’m afraid for Noah.”

Her mom didn’t hesitate. She took Ruth’s hands again, this time holding them tightly, as if she could pass strength through touch alone. “Oh, sweetheart. I know.”

Ruth swallowed hard. “He’s out there, taking on all these people—Fairchild, his men. He doesn’t stop. He never stops.” Her voice cracked. “And I’m just here. I can’t see; I can’t help—I can’t do anything.”

Her mom reached up, tucking a stray piece of Ruth’s hair behind her ear, the way she used to when Ruth was a child. “I was always afraid when your father went to work,” she said softly. “Every single time. And I know, deep in my heart, he was just as afraid for me. But that’s what love is.”

Ruth’s breath hitched.

Her mom continued, her voice steady and warm, wrapping around Ruth like a blanket. “Loving someone means carrying that fear, even when it’s heavy. Even when it hurts. Because it’s not just fear—it’s also faith. Faith that they’ll come back. Faith that they have someone waiting for them.”

Tears pricked at Ruth’s eyes.

Her mom squeezed her hands again, her voice just above a whisper. “Noah knows you’re waiting for him. That’s why he’ll come home.”

Dad didn’t come home one day.Ruth inhaled shakily, then nodded, even though the fear still pressed against her ribs.

She wasn’t sure what was waiting for Noah out there. But she did know he would fight like hell to come back to her.

And for now, that had to be enough.

Thirty-Eight

Melanie wasn’t expecting them.Good. That was the point.

Noah offered a casual, unreadable smile. “Hey, Luke.”

Luke shrugged, slipping into his well-practiced easygoing demeanor. “Melanie, let them in.”