QUINN

The sound of her steady breathing floated through the air. I sat at the stool close to her bed, watching her—she looked so tiny and fragile in the hospital gown, her face pale, wrapped in whatever IV lines she had been connected to.

Her chest rose steadily.

Her breathing was normal.

Her hand was warm.

I repeated these words in my head over and over, still trying to convince myself they were reassuring.

The door clicked open as the nurse walked in, holding a tray of medicine. She stared at me then away, knowing what I was going through. We looked so out of place in this exclusive hospital...