The antiseptic hum of machines greeted him before memory did. Ryder blinked against the pale hospital light, head heavy, throat dry, ribs aching like he’d been trampled. For a moment he thought he was alone—until he turned his head and saw her.

Isobel. Curled in the stiff vinyl chair, her hands clasped tight around his, eyes red-rimmed from crying but fixed on him with a tenderness that undid him completely.

“Isobel…” His voice rasped, low and cracked.

She was on her feet in a ...