“It’s an automated update from the hospital database,” he muttered, his voice shaking slightly.

He didn’t wait for Paul to answer on the line.

He scooped me up into his arms, lifting me high against his chest.

His wool coat was cold, smelling of pine needles and expensive soap.

I held my doll tightly against my shoulder as we walked quickly toward the street.

A long, black car pulled up to the curb of Millennium Park.

Its tires made a loud, wet crunching sound in the deep, frozen slush.

The driver jumped out immediately and opened the heavy back door.

“St. Anne’s Hospital,” Ethan told him before we were even settled on the leather seats. “Drive as fast as you can.”

The warmth of the car hit my face like a soft blanket.

My wet boots began to thaw, and my toes started to tingle with a sharp, burning pain.

I whimpered and pulled my knees up to my chest.

Ethan noticed right away.

He reached over and took my small, dirty boots in his large, warm hands.

He rubbed them gently through the wet fabric.