My day off…Penny collapsed on the street…hospitalized…

She hadn’t had time to fill me in on the details before a nurse called for her in the background. The lack of context sent my stomach into upheaval and my imagination spiraling down thorny paths.

How badly was Pen hurt? Was this a broken limb or something worse? Would they have to operate on her?

Dread clawed at my insides.

I should’ve checked in on her earlier. It’d been a month since London, and Rhea gave me the occasional text update, but I should’ve found time to sneak in a video call. Instead, I’d been buried in work and Xavier.

Logic told me Rhea would’ve been more distraught if Pen were in serious danger, but logic always cracked in the face of frigid, debilitating fear.

Thankfully, Xavier didn’t ask questions or make conversation. He simply gunned through the streets, navigating jaywalkers and traffic with surprising dexterity...until we hit the gridlocked mess that was Midtown Manhattan during rush hour.

The lights were green, but traffic was so backed up, no one could move.

“What happened?” I straightened, trying to make sense of the snarl of cars, pedestrians, and bicyclists weaving through the intersection.

“Looks like an accident.” Xavier opened the driver-side, leaned out, and did a quick survey of our surroundings. “We’re backed up for blocks.”

Shit. My hands curled around the edge of my seat. We could be stuck here for hours, and I didn’t have hours.

What if Pen took a sudden turn for the worse? What if I missed out on seeing her for the last time by—

No. Don’t go there.

I fought for calm. Devolving into a hysterical mess wouldn’t do anyone any favors.

“I’ll be right back.” Xavier got out of the car fully. “If traffic somehow disappears in the next five minutes, my baby is in your hands.” He patted the top of his Porsche.

“What are you…?” I twisted around to watch as he walked down the line of cars behind us and knocked on the window of the last one. The driver rolled it down, Xavier handed him something, and after a short exchange, the car reversed and turned onto a side street.

Thankfully, there were only three cars blocking us, and Xavier repeated this process with the last two until we were clear.

“Change of plans.” He slid back into his seat and followed the others’ lead in reversing and rerouting. “This next part might be bumpy.”

“What did you do?”

“Gave the drivers three hundred bucks each to go the opposite direction.” Xavier frowned at the side street, which was also clogged. “Bribery works wonders.”

“We need to talk about the dangerous amount of cash you carry— shit.” I clutched the door’s armrest, my heart leaping into my mouth as the Porsche swerved onto the sidewalk. “This is not a road!”

“I’m aware.” He plowed forward, two of the wheels on the sidewalk and two on the street, past a queue of blaring car horns and angry curses. “There are no people walking here, and I can afford the fine.”

“You’ve lost your mind—fuck!” My heartbeat ratcheted up another notch when we nearly sideswiped a fire hydrant, and I didn’t breathe until we finally, finally turned on a new street and returned to proper driving.

As in, no sidewalk, only asphalt.

The incoming rush of oxygen made me dizzy. Note to self: never get in a car with Xavier behind the wheel again.

“You need to get to the hospital. This is the fastest way we can get there,” he said calmly. He drove with one hand; the other closed around over mine, interlacing our fingers. I stiffened with surprise. “Don’t worry, Luna. We’ll make it.”

I stared at his profile for a second before my gaze drifted to our intertwined hands. His was so large it engulfed mine, and so warm the heat radiated up my arm, through my chest, and into my stomach.

He was focused on the road, and his act of comfort was a casual, unthinking one, but somehow that made it all the more intimate.

Emotion climbed into my throat, thick and sudden.

I missed sex because I hadn’t had it in a month, but I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this. Non-sexual touches. Easy intimacy. Connection, in one form or another.

Maybe it was because I hadn’t had this in years, if I’d ever really had it at all.

I faced forward and squeezed Xavier’s hand, letting his reassuring strength calm me. I didn’t care about displaying vulnerability in that moment; I just needed someone to hold on to.

Luckily, we didn’t hit major traffic again, and we arrived at the hospital in relatively short order.

“You go inside,” he said. “I’ll look for parking.” I didn’t argue.

For a random Wednesday afternoon, the hospital was packed, but since I was family, I easily made it past the front desk.

I checked my phone in the elevator. No new messages from Rhea, which I assumed was a good thing. Please let her be okay.

The doors slid open. I ran out, turned the corner, and— My stomach plummeted.

George and Caroline stood in the hall, him in a suit and her in a designer tweed dress. Their backs faced me, but I would recognize them anywhere.

I’d been so focused on seeing Pen I hadn’t considered their presence. Honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if they hadn’t shown up. They had a habit of ignoring her unless it was absolutely necessary.

They were talking to a nurse and hadn’t noticed me yet. Rhea, however, did. Our gazes locked before she deliberately turned, letting me take advantage of George and Caroline’s distraction to slip into Pen’s room.

I’d deal with the fallout later. Right now, I needed to see her.

Pen appeared to be sleeping, but she stirred when I closed the door behind me.

She turned her head, her eyes widening with surprise. “Sloane?”

“Hi.” I mustered a faint smile even as I frantically scanned her for signs of grievous injury. She looked so tiny in the hospital bed, but other than a giant bandage over her forehead, I didn’t spot anything amiss. She didn’t seem to have any broken limbs, bruises, or contusions. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” Pen’s voice was thin but steady. “Don’t worry. It’s just a cut. Everyone’s freaking out over nothing.”

“What happened?” The knots in my chest loosened, but worry lingered in the spaces between them.

“It’s so stupid,” she grumbled, sounding her full nine years of age. “I fell and hit my head on the sidewalk. That’s it.”

“Pen.” I leveled her with a stern stare.

She heaved an aggrieved sigh. “I crashed while Annie and I were taking a walk. I hit my head on the curb and, um, almost got run over by a bicycle.”

I bit back a curse and a litany of questions. Annie was Rhea’s backup whenever Rhea had the day off. She should’ve known better than to take Pen out at this time of day, when she was most likely to crash.