"Go wash up first, I've made breakfast."
Abigail Hemsworth looked back at the still sleeping child, covered her face with both hands, stayed silent for a while, then asked, "What time is it now?"
"Six ten."
Abigail paused for a moment, then suddenly lifted her head. "So…"
Travis Miller gave a faint nod. "In a little under three hours, it'll be Linn's surgery."
"You're exhausted. You slept all night and didn't even eat dinner."
Abigail's expression turned slightly blank. The dream she'd just had flashed through her mind again, like something had jabbed her; she suddenly shut her eyes.
A broad, warm palm came down over her head. Lowering her eyes, she saw an expensive pair of leather shoes stop in front of her, the suit pants pressed razor-sharp and straight.
"It's going to be okay."
Abigail's eyes reddened despite herself.
She hadn't wanted this. From the beginning she'd never thought about relying on anyone, least of all Travis Miller.
