“Are you family?”
“Daughter.” I started to say more, but a soft sob escaped, and Chris’s arm around my back tightened. It wasn’t until I felt the cold chill of the winter wind against my cheeks that I grasped he’d walked us out of the coffee shop. Buckled my seatbelt. And then I was staring at his back while he walked away. For a moment, I held my breath, studying the handle while my brain processed the pros and cons of turning it. I held my ground this time. “About four hours.”
“And you’ve been here the whole time?”
“Yes.”
I gulped. His arms tightened around me, and I gasped for breath once more. Now, shower first?”
I started to nod but yawned. The corner of his mouth turned up when he lifted his right hand toward my head and I inhaled sharply. I can’t take you back to the hospital for you car.”
He hesitated—still not facing me—before saying, “I can get an Uber…or a cab.”
“I-I’m sure that will be almost impossible. Everything I saw or heard seemed distorted, as though from
