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A second passed. Two. Three. Then he felt it— the faint flutter of a heartbeat beneath his fingertips. Pierce first, then Rhiannon.
Relief crashed over Rylan like a tidal wave, so intense it nearly brought him to his knees. He slumped forward, his forehead pressed to the edge of the opening as he exhaled a shaky breath. “They’re alive!”
chapter
twenty-eight
The hospital smelled like antiseptic,the sharp, sterile scent cutting through the thick air of anxiety that hung over everything. Rhiannon sat in the small waiting room, her foot tapping nervously on the linoleum floor. Her heart pounded, her fingers twisted together in her lap as she stared at the door, waiting. Any second now, her parents would walk through it.
After Redwood Coast Rescue pulled her and Pierce out of the rubble, they’d both been rushed to the nearest hospital. It had taken most of the day, but eventually, the doctors had cleared them both to go home.
She hadn’t seen Pierce since.
Where was he?
As soon as she was medically cleared, Rylan called their parents to let them know. They’d flown in right after she was rescued from the gift shop and now insisted she stay at the hospital until they got there. Thankfully, she’d at least been able to shower and was given a fresh change of clothes for the reunion.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. Relief, fear, guilt—it all crashedtogether, making her feel unsteady. Like the ground could shift beneath her feet again at any moment.
Rylan sat beside her, his arm slung loosely around her shoulders, providing the kind of quiet, steady comfort that only an older brother could. He had always been her rock, and she loved him more than ever.
The door creaked open, and her breath caught in her throat.
There they were.
Clayton Cross stood tall, though his face was etched with worry and exhaustion. His hair had grayed at the temples and begun to recede since she last saw him, but his eyes—those same warm, steady greenish-gold eyes she had inherited—were fixed on her with a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming relief.
Behind him was her mother, looking more fragile than Rhiannon remembered. Delia’s once vibrant chestnut hair was streaked with silver, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but it was the way she moved—slowly, carefully—that made Rhiannon’s heart twist.
She barely registered standing up. Before she knew it, she was in their arms, wrapped in the warmth and safety she had missed so desperately. Her father’s embrace was tight, his hand cupping the back of her head like he had when she was a little girl.
“Thank God,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank God you’re okay.”
Rhiannon couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They spilled down her cheeks, and she clung to him, her breath hitching with sobs.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“Hush, baby girl,” Delia said, stroking her hair gently. “You don’t need to apologize. We’re just so glad you’re safe.”
The three of them stood there for what felt like forever, locked in an embrace that was as much about healing as it wasabout love. But eventually, Rhiannon felt her mother’s arms loosen, and when she pulled back, she saw it—the weariness in her eyes, the pallor of her skin.
She frowned, wiping at her tears. “Mom? Are you okay?”
Delia smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”
But her father’s face tightened, and he looked away. Rylan’s breath hitched like he was holding back a sob.
Rhiannon’s heart sank. “What is it?”
There was a beat of silence, heavy and tense.
“Tell me,” Rhiannon insisted, stepping back, her gaze shifting between her parents and brother.
Delia sighed softly, her hand drifting to the scarf wrapped around her neck. “I didn’t want to tell you like this, not right after everything you’ve been through... but I’m sick, Rhee. I’ve been battling cancer for a few months now.”
The world tilted beneath her like another earthquake had shattered the entire foundation of her world.
Rhiannon’s legs gave out from under her, and she sank into the nearest chair, the air rushing from her lungs as if she’d been sucker punched. “Cancer?” she whispered, the word tasting bitter and wrong on her tongue. It felt foreign like it didn’t belong to her mother.
