The steady beep of the monitors clawed at Myla’s nerves. It reminded her of memories she wished she could forget.

Hayden lay still on the hospital bed, pale. She hadn’t moved from the chair beside him all night. Her fingers were cold where they clutched the thin blanket at his waist, as if her grip alone could keep him tethered here.

Sunlight finally slid across the room, harsh and pale against the sterile walls. She shifted forward on the seat when she saw his lashes tremble, his brow ...