Chapter 3

Graham's POV

The ringtone cut through the silent room like a knife in the middle of the night.

Years in the military had trained me to open my eyes at the first ring.

I reached for the nightstand. The blue glow of the screen made me squint — 3:47 a.m.

An unfamiliar landline number.

I frowned and picked up.

"Hello, are you a family member of Isolde Porter? This is North Ridge General Hospital."

My steps froze. My chest tightened hard.

"I am. What happened to her?"

"Ms. Porter was found unconscious on the side of North Ridge Highway by a passing driver around 4 a.m. She's currently in emergency care. Her temperature is 104 degrees Fahrenheit, she has severe hypothermia, and she's not out of danger yet."

The nurse paused. "We tried reaching her parents, but no one answered at this hour. Yours was the only number that connected — listed in her phone as 'Graham.' Can you come right away?"

"I'll be there."

I hung up. The hand gripping my phone was shaking.

4 a.m. A mountain highway in the snow. Unconscious.

Isolde had been left on the side of a snowy mountain road.

How long had she been lying out there in the freezing cold? If that driver hadn't passed by, if he hadn't looked twice — I couldn't let myself think about it.

Tonight, by chance, I was home on leave.

If things had been normal, if I'd still been on deployment, if I hadn't answered that call —

No one would have known she was lying on the side of the road. No one would have gone to find her. She would have just laid there alone in the snow until morning. She could have died.

As a Special Forces major, I'd kept my head under fire and made clear decisions at the edge of death. Almost nothing rattled me.

I thought I'd trained myself out of feeling fear.

But right now, my whole body was shaking and I couldn't stop it.

I grabbed the SUV keys off the counter.

No time for a proper coat. I yanked a black wool overcoat off the hook and ran out the door.

I threw open the car door, started the engine. The black SUV roared into the dark like a beast let loose.

The snow was coming down hard.

Wind drove flakes against the windshield in waves. Even with the wipers on full, visibility was nearly nothing.

I floored it. The four-wheel drive slipped on the iced-over mountain road, then the traction control yanked it back.

The speedometer pushed toward 75.

In conditions like this, even an hour felt too fast for most people. But the military had made extreme environments feel like second nature to me. Right now, I just need to go faster.

All I could hear in my head was the nurse's voice: 104 degrees. Severe hypothermia.

Isolde had been fragile since she was a kid. A little cold air and she'd be coughing for two weeks. How could she survive temperatures that low on a mountain in a snowstorm?

How did she end up unconscious on that highway alone?

Wasn't she supposed to be at the campsite with Louis?

The veins on the back of my hands stood out against the steering wheel.

I'd always known how fragile she was.

When we were kids, she'd sit quietly in the corner watching Louis and me tear around the yard.

Even a little wind would give her a fever that lasted the whole night.

All these years, because Louis was my younger brother, because of the family rules, I'd buried every feeling I had for her.

I told myself that since Louis had won her over, he'd treat her like she was everything to him.

To stay out of her happiness, I pulled back. I held myself in check. I even joined the military against my parents' wishes, just to put distance between us.

I thought if I stayed away from her, what I felt would eventually fade.

I was wrong. Once I was in the service, her face showed up in my dreams more often, not less.

And I never imagined that what Louis would bring her was nothing but neglect and hurt, again and again.

If I'd known it would turn out this way, I would have broken Louis's legs before I ever let her go.

But it was too late now.

She was Louis's girlfriend. She was the one woman I could never touch.

The tires hit a patch of black ice. The rear end swung out hard toward the edge of the cliff.

I counter-steered without expression, pumped the brakes.

The tires caught the road less than two feet from the guardrail. The second the car straightened out, I floored it again.

Thirty minutes.

A drive that should have taken over an hour. I cut it in half.

The North Ridge General Hospital sign glowed a pale white through the storm.

The brakes screamed as I pulled up right in front of the ER entrance. I pushed the door open and walked in fast.

"Isolde Porter. Just brought in from North Ridge Highway." My voice came out rough, barely sounding like mine.

The nurse glanced at me and turned to lead the way.

The door to the trauma bay was half open, a white curtain drawn in a circle around one of the beds. I stood in the doorway and looked through the gap.

Isolde was lying there alone.

A white blanket pulled up to her chin, an IV line in her arm, clear fluid dripping down one drop at a time. An oxygen mask covered half her face. The part I could see was completely white.

No one was beside her.

No parents. No friends. No Louis, who had said so many times that he loved her, that he couldn't live without her.

She was just lying there by herself, like a small cat abandoned in the snow.

Something reached into my chest, squeezed hard, crushed it, and let go.

I pushed the curtain aside and walked in. I crouched down next to the bed.

Her eyes were closed. Her lashes trembled slightly. Every breath she took was so shallow. A few strands of hair, damp from cold sweat, were stuck to her cheek. I reached out and gently moved them aside.

My fingertips touched her skin. She was burning.

"Isolde?" I said quietly.

No response.

A nurse came over to adjust the IV drip and looked at me. "Are you her brother?"

I paused, then nodded.

"When she was brought in, she was completely unconscious. Core temperature was 93 degrees. If it had been another half hour..." The nurse didn't finish. She just shook her head. "With her constitution, she had no business being up in the mountains in this weather. How was your family looking after her?"

I didn't answer.

How were we looking after her?

I knew she was with Louis. I thought Louis would take care of her. I thought the kid who had followed her around since childhood would at least keep her safe.

But I forgot. Louis had always been a spoiled child.

He only knew how to take, how to enjoy. He never understood what responsibility meant.

Where was he when Isolde was found unconscious on the side of the road?

Was he still out there playing in the snow, not even glancing at his phone?

I closed my eyes for a moment and pushed the anger back down.

Now wasn't the time.

Isolde was still lying here. She hadn't woken up. We didn't even know yet if there would be lasting damage.

I straightened up, pulled a chair over, and sat down next to the bed.

"I'll stay with her," I told the nurse. "If anything comes up, tell me directly."

She nodded and drew the curtain closed behind her.

The room went quiet. Just the steady beeping of the cardiac monitor and Isolde's faint breathing.

I leaned back in the chair and took her hand.

Her fingers were ice cold and so thin it felt like they'd break if I held them too tight.

I used to think stepping aside was the right thing to do. I thought giving the girl I loved to my brother was a kind of grace. I told myself Louis could give her more happiness than I could — he was warm, he was romantic, he knew how to make people smile.

But now I knew.

I had been wrong.

Completely, entirely wrong.