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I nod and pass out again.

This routine repeats five more times through the night. By the time he wakes me up at seven, I answer him before he can ask me anything.

“I’m Mabel, and it’s June,” I grumble.

He laughs. It’s quickly becoming my favorite sound.

“Are you hungry, smartass?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good. I made breakfast. You need to get up because Dillon is awake.”

I’m instantly alert. “Dillon?”

“Yeah. Jensen just called me.”

I throw the covers off and leap from the bed. Or I try to. My head spins, and Miles catches me.

“Easy there, mate.”

He wraps his arms around me and carries me downstairs.

“I can walk,” I tell him.

“All right. Here.” He passes me a tinfoil-wrapped breakfast sandwich.

I unwrap it as I shove my feet into my shoes, practically inhaling the burrito. Once I’m done, Miles passes me another.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

We walk in silence as I eat, and my heart rate picks up as the hospital comes into view.

“She’s okay, right? Jensen didn’t say anything had happened?”

“She’s fine. She’s awake and groggy, but she’s all right.”

“Good.” I sigh in relief.

We head inside and up to the second floor.

I make a beeline to her hospital room and burst inside. “Dillon!”

I shove Jensen out of the way and wrap my arms around her. We both burst into tears.

“I was so scared,” I sob.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she sniffles.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see them in time.”

Dillon shakes her head. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t see them either. They came out of nowhere.”

“But I was driving. I shouldn’t have swerved. I should’ve replaced the tires. I should?—”

“I would have done the same thing, Mabel. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you.”