❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
“I wish I had a kid to hold,” she replied, her heart still racing from the fear of failing this surgery. It was complicated and the risk of death was extraordinarily high, but now she and Teddy were watching a new mother fresh out of a car accident holding a brand new baby boy.
The redhead wiped under her eyes, brushing the tears away as she let out a shaky exhale.
“This is no place for tears,” Teddy said
quietly, willing herself not to cry. No, she had to be s t r o n g — it’d be more than an act of disrespect to this mother and her baby if she didn’t give it her very best; it would be a crime to let them down after the h e l l they’d been through. “They’ve made it this far — let’s
make sure they make it the rest of the way home.”
Steeling her nerves for the
fight to come,
Teddy let her instincts flow through her
— the same instincts
which had helped
her heal so many a broken heart before
this one.
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