“I did—”
“Hell if you did.”
Her eyes shot open.
“I’d remember something like that.”
“But—”
“I need the words. Not just actions. The words, Liv.”
A large hand clamped around his shoulder. “The paramedics are here, Z. They need to look at her now.”
Zeke brushed her lips with hers. “Rain check.”
She gave him a faint smile. “Deal.”
Loosening his hold on her, he allowed the paramedics to lift her onto a gurney.
Something white on the ground caught his eye. He reached over and picked it up.
An earbud.
Ash held out his hand to help him up. Zeke stared at the device in confusion. His worry for Liv fracturing his critical thinking chip.
“I got you, Z,” Ash said as he hauled him to his feet.
Z.
It had been years since he’d heard the nickname.
As the paramedics carted Liv away, she blurted out, “Brodie,” and reached for her phone on the table.
The sudden movement jostled her concussed head too much, and she heaved the contents of her stomach onto her shoulder and the gurney.
“Stay still, Mrs. Westcott,” the paramedic near her head said, forcing her to lie back down.
Liv ignored the woman and sent a last desperate glance at Zeke before she disappeared into the back of the ambulance. “Brodie!”
Zeke rolled the earbud between his fingers as he stepped toward the table. Dread crowded into his chest as he picked up Liv’s phone. A FaceTime call was still active.
Brodie’s red, tear-streaked face and his uncle’s concerned one filled the display in a jittery Blair Witch-style videography.
Zeke shoved Liv’s small white device into place.
The boy’s scream-wail pierced his eardrum.
“Mama!”