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“But she’s in a state of posttraumatic unconsciousness. We’re monitoring her, but I’m concerned she suffered a lack of oxygen to the brain while she was in the water.”

My chest feels hollowed out. I start to fall forward, but my older brother holds me. “What does that mean?” Sawyer’s voice is grave.

The doctor’s lips press together. “It could mean anything. We won’t know until she regai

ns consciousness.”

I’m having trouble breathing. My throat is tight. Mrs. Jenny pulls me into a hug while my brother talks to the doctor.

“How long will she be like this?”

“I don’t know, but we’re moving her to a room. Hopefully hearing her mother’s voice, talking to her will bring her around. It’s a waiting game now. I’ll have the nurse show you back.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Leon’s voice calls after him.

My brother helps my friend lower me into a blue vinyl chair. “We’ll sit with her. We’ll talk to her, and she’s going to wake up.” Mrs. Jenny’s voice is confident. “You know how chatty she is. She’ll want to join the conversation.”

I don’t know what I know. My shoulders ache, and I feel all hope slipping away from me. “What about Taron?” I sound hoarse. “Did they tell us anything about him?”

“Last I heard, he was being treated for a head wound—”

“I officially have a hard head.” His low, rich voice is like a balm to my aching insides.

My hand trembles as I reach out, and he’s with me, in front of me, holding me in his strong embrace. “Taron.” I can barely speak. “You’re okay.”

He leans back and catches my eyes. A small bandage is above his left temple and an ugly purple bruise is on his left cheek, but he’s warm and alive. He slides his hand under my arm and helps me stand. “I had her with me the whole time. I don’t know what happened when the ice broke… I lost consciousness briefly.”

“You saved your daughter’s life.” Mrs. Jenny reaches out to pull him into a firm hug. “I always knew you were a good man. You proved it tonight.”

“LaGrange family?” Our circle opens for a young nurse in khaki scrubs. “I can take two of you back to see Dove. Are her parents here?”

“That’s us.” Taron holds my hand, and we follow her down the quiet corridor, past doors decorated with paper balloons and animals.

I don’t want to think about the torture of being forced to stay here indefinitely waiting. I can’t let my mind go to what that would ultimately mean.

“Here we are.” The nurse leads us into a dark room where my baby lies on a large bed surrounded by beeping machines and a ventilator.

“Oh, no.” I whisper, but Taron keeps me standing.

We’re left alone, and I go to her bedside. Her golden hair is around her face in damp waves, but her beautiful eyes are shut. A clear tube is in her nose, and her little chest is moving.

“She’s not on the ventilator.” Taron stands behind me, speaking softly. “That has to be a good sign. It’s like she’s sleeping.”

“Dove?” My voice is louder. “Mamma’s here. Please wake up.”

Silence is my only reply.

Silence and the noise of beeping machines.

I blink worried eyes up to her father, and his face is solemn. He’s watching her little body, waiting as helpless as me for any sign she’s still in there. Any indication she’s going to come back.

The doctor says the first twenty-four hours are critical. He tells us if she’s unconscious longer than that, the risk of brain damage increases dramatically.

My heart can’t unclench. It’s tight as a fist in my chest, and as much as I want to believe Mrs. Jenny’s words, I have to get up and walk around.

Taron is the opposite. He’s at her side, his large hand under her small one, watching her little face and waiting.

“Hey, baby girl. Time to wake up.” The smallest crack enters his voice and splinters my heart.