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“You were in there for three minutes. I counted to a hundred and ninety.” I pick at the tape holding the clip on my finger. “That was the longest three minutes of my life, Travis. Longer than standing at the stone house waiting for your lights.”

He reaches over and takes my hand on top of the blanket.

“You told me to go,” he says.

“I know.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“He’s your guy.” I squeeze his fingers. “You’d have gone anyway. I wanted you to go knowing I was okay with it.”

His thumb moves across my palm. That’s all the answer I need.

The door bangs open, and Cassia comes through it like she’s breaching it, with Tara Lund right behind her holding a fern, and Devin bringing up the rear.

“You absolute dumbass,” Cassia says, and hugs me so hard the clip pops off my finger. “I love you. Are you okay? You dumbass.”

“I’m okay.”

“She counted,” Travis says. “Every second I was in that barn.”

Tara sets the fern on my tray table.

“That’s my fern,” I say. “You bought that from me on Thursday.”

“And now I’m returning it with love. The gift shop downstairs only had balloons that say It’s a Boy.” She looks at Travis, at the soot and the gown and the white dressing on his neck. “Holy shit. What happened to you?”

“A hay bale,” he says.

Cassia sits on the edge of my bed. “Devin and I were stuck covering the station,” she says. “I heard Rob say they had you, and I went and cried in the rescue truck. Then Caleb called a Mayday, and I sat right down on the bay floor.”

Devin looks at Travis. “Novak’s two doors down telling every nurse who walks by that he’s quitting to be a florist. And he’s sending you a picture. Brace yourself.”

“He already threatened me,” Travis says.

I laugh, which makes me cough. Travis hands me the water cup without even looking, like he’s been doing it for years.

Cassia watches him do it. Then she points at him.

“I told you,” she says. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“You tell me a lot of things.”

“And I’m always right.” She stands up and kisses my forehead. “Don’t ever do that again. I mean it, Linds. I’ll set your roses on fire myself.”

“Out,” the nurse says from the hall.

They go, all three of them.

It’s dark outside my window by the time somebody knocks. The door opens, and my heart jumps, because it’s Carol Hayes. She’s in her church coat with her purse clutched in both hands, and her face is pale and scared.

“Lindsey,” she says. “Oh, sweetie. Bonnie called me. She heard it on the scanner. Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Carol. I’m fine. Come in.”

She comes in and sits on the end of my bed. Her eyes go to our hands on the blanket, and something in her face softens.

“You went out to the Hollister place,” she says.