Chapter 32

Amy woke with a start as Prince growled.

“Quiet!”

What had set the dog off?

A crazy banging at the door downstairs intruded on the deep woods peace and silence. Almost wild, and persistent. She grabbed her robe from the carved wood chair beside her bed, bundled into it, then peered out her ceiling to floor window, down below.

Bathed in the light of the lamppost was Nathan. And in his arms, Ryker, wrapped up in a pale blue blanket.

“Oh no.” She flew down the stairs. Threw the door open, stared into the face of a man gone pale.

And those eyes. That grief. There again. If at all possible, deeper than the first time.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sick.”

She ushered him through the door. Tugged him in, felt the cold chill of the forest air on his jacket. “Over here.” Sat him in her wing chair.

She knelt, curved her hand around the little head. “He’s hot, Nate. Look at him. What happened?”

Nathan’s voice was thick with worry. “I don’t know. I woke up and he’d thrown up and had accidents everywhere.”

“We’ll go to Pop Talbot. I’ll drive. Give me two minutes.” She motioned to her dog. “Stay. Guard.” Prince sat back on his haunches, watched the man and the still bundle in his arms with unwavering alertness.

“He’ll see us? It’s four a.m.”

“He’ll see us,” she called down the staircase. She grabbed her sweatpants, threw on a t-shirt, then a hoodie.

Scant minutes later she was downstairs, two water bottles in hand, a package of dog treats sticking out of her backpack, Prince at her heels. “Let’s go.”