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Abby shuddered. When they’d told Ethan his brother might not make it, his devastation had torn open a barely-healed part of her own heart. His horrified expression would haunt her nightmares for many nights to come. She and Gen had been at the hospital overnight as they comforted Ethan and his family during the surgery, then waited for Liam’s condition to improve. Ethan had cried himself to sleep in the wee hours of the morning, head pillowed on Gen’s gently heaving chest, fingers twined in her fur.
Parking, Abby’s feet dragged as she unloaded Gen, and the dog’s toenails scraped the ground with each weary step. At least she’d gotten to nap with Ethan. While he’d slept, his grief-stricken mother had finally broken down, and Abby had sat with her until word finally arrived Liam had stabilized.
Abby couldn’t wait to crawl into bed and sleep...maybe for a week.
She reached down to scratch the dog’s head as they walked. When Gen’s ears pricked forward with interest, Abby missed it, exhaustion dulling her response. Finally, her eyes focused, and she stuttered to a stop.
The child sitting on her doorstep looked familiar. He could have been any of her previous patients, in fact, if she gave out her home address. Because she didn’t, the pool of possible visitors narrowed to zero – except...
Her eyes caught and held on the blue cast spiraling from his palm all the way to his elbow.
“Dylan? What are you doing here?”
Gen lunged forward and threw herself into the boy’s arms, slipping her leash from Abby’s grasp.
Dylan, sitting on Abby’s front steps, hugged Gen, then peered up through her fur. “I need help.”
“Help?” Abby repeated dumbly. “What kind of help?”
Words cascaded in a torrent from Dylan’s lips. “The doctor said he’d have to chop off my arm to remove the cast, and I’d have to get a robotic arm, and he’d try not to let it hurt too much, and my dad thought it was funny. But it’s not funny; I don’t want to be a robot, or have my arm cut off.” He buried his face in Gen’s ruff and sobbed.
“Oh, Dylan.” Abby heaved herself down onto the steps next to him and wrapped an arm around him and her dog. “No one is going to cut off your arm.”
The boy sniffled. “Promise?”
Abby nodded.
“Pinky swear?”
Abby smiled for the first time in days. “I promise.” She linked her finger with Dylan and shook on it. “Now, where’s your dad?”
Dylan snorted. “He had a press conference.”
Abby’s mouth dropped open in shock. “He left you here?”
“No way, I called an Uber.” He smiled in pride. “I used all my allowance. Lauren, my nanny, thinks I’m in my room playing video games.”
“You... you ran away?” Abby clarified.
Dylan’s forehead furrowed. “Yeah, I guess. But Dad wouldn’t listen to me, and I couldn’t think of any other way. He left your number on the fridge. I looked it up on the internet to get your address.”
Abby’s brain wasn’t processing at full speed, but she recognized the familiar sense of panic creeping up on her. She pulled her cell phone from her bag and lurched back to her feet, unlocking her door while dialing Scott’s number. She shooed Dylan toward the couch and let Gen hop up next to him.
The phone connected after the first ring. “Abby? I can’t talk right now, Dylan’s missing.”
“Dylan’s here, with me.”
“What?” She couldn’t tell if Scott was furious, relieved, or panicked. “Why?”
“I found him sitting on my front steps when I got home,” Abby explained. “I don’t know how long he’s been here.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Abby gave him her address and hung up. She glanced over at Dylan and Gen curled together on the couch and walked over to ruffle his hair. “Your dad’s on his way to come get you.”
Dylan cringed. “He’s going to be so mad at me.”
Abby crouched on the floor and caught Dylan’s eyes, bright and blue and so like his father’s.