He rounded a corner and saw a truck barreling toward them, trying to overtake a vehicle in the oncoming lane.

Heart pounding a frantic beat, he made a split-second decision and drove onto the shoulder, pumping his rear brake as they hit the gravel. The bike skidded, heading for the concrete retaining wall. Liam released the handlebars and, in one fluid motion, he twisted, grabbed Daisy, and threw them both off the bike. His body hit the ground with a teeth-rattling thud. He rolled and rolled until the world began to fade. He reached out his arms, but Daisy was gone.

• 26 •

LIAM had no idea how long he’d been sitting on the chair outside Daisy’s hospital room. It could have been an hour or a day or a week. All he knew was that he couldn’t leave. Not until he knew she was okay. Not until he’d said goodbye.

Bent over, elbows resting on his knees, head down, he stared at the floor. He was vaguely aware of people going in and out of Daisy’s room. Old and young, family and friends, nurses and doctors. Her family had rented a function room somewhere in the hospital where they could gather and support each other, sending people two at a time to her room so she wouldn’t be alone when she awoke. He figured they must have brought enough food to feed an army. Every hour or so, someone would offer him a plate, but he couldn’t eat. Daisy couldn’t eat. Why should he?

He heard a rustle beside him, caught a glimpse of a bright green tunic, felt a hand on his shoulder. Although he just wanted to be left alone, he looked up. Just in case. Good news or bad, he needed to know.

It took him a moment to recognize Daisy’s aunt Taara without her shark costume. She was shorter than he’d thought, older, her dark hair swinging around her shoulders.

“I made this for you.” She handed him a clear plastic container, her face creased in a frown. “Layla said you haven’t eaten anything in three days. It’s your favorite. Shark Stew. I went to the SAP arena to get the authentic ingredients. All your nutrients are there.”

“Thank you.” His voice, unused for so long, was so hoarse it was almost unrecognizable. “That’s very kind.”

They had all been kind. Her family had treated him as if he were one of them. It made no sense. Daisy was in that hospital bed because of him, because she had been on his bike, because he had asked her to ride.

“Taara, what are you doing?” Daisy’s aunt Salena reached for the container. He remembered her from the conference center, although they had only shared a few words. “He survived the crash. We don’t want to kill him now.”

“He likes it.” Taara handed him the container. “I gave him some at the hockey game and he ate it all. Every bit.”

“Did he now?” Salena gave Liam an appraising stare. “He must have a cast-iron stomach. Or maybe he’s missing his taste buds. Or maybe . . .” Her voice softened. “He has a good heart.”

“He has a broken heart.” Taara patted his shoulder. “But it’s going to be okay. Daisy is going to be fine. The doctor said so. No broken bones. No internal injuries. Not even skin abrasions. She was well protected in her motorcycle suit. She just needs to wake up, and it will all be good.”

Liam pressed his lips tight together and nodded. It wasn’t going to be fine. He was his father’s son after all, causing pain to everyone he loved.

Time passed. Deepa stopped by his chair to tell him his sherwani was ready, and she’d found him a bigger sword. Amina had a new recipe for a not-so-spicy pork vindaloo. Sam had arranged for Hamish to pick up his motorcycle and take it to the shop. Mehar, who had snuck Max into the hospital in Daisy’s Marvel tote bag, put Max in Liam’s lap for a quick hug.

Someone sat beside him and he tensed, hands clenching into fists as he prepared to be assailed yet again by love. He couldn’t even imagine having a family like the Patels. A family that would hold him up, instead of tearing him down. A family that would rent a room in the hospital so he wouldn’t be alone.

“Even I think this is too much,” Layla said, tugging on his shoulder until he was upright. “You had a concussion, too. You were supposed to go home and rest.”

“I am resting.”

“You’re brooding,” she said. “And you’re blaming yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. I talked to the police. They had the dash-cam footage of the car behind you and witness statements of the drivers on the other side of the road. The guy in the truck was drunk. He’d been driving dangerously before the accident, trying to get ahead of a long line of traffic. He tried to pass on a blind corner on a double yellow line and was directly in your path. There was nothing you could have done to avoid a head-on collision other than go off the road. Not only that, you saved her. The police officer said what you did was heroic. If you hadn’t jumped off the bike with Daisy, you both would have hit the retaining wall and no amount of body armor could have saved you.”

Emotion welled up in his chest and he pressed a palm to his forehead. “She was on that road because of me.”

“She wanted to be there,” Layla said. “She texted me before she left. She was excited, Liam. Not hesitant. Not afraid. She didn’t feel pressured in any way. It was her choice.” She patted his arm. “Go home. Take a shower. Eat something. Have a rest. I promise I’ll call if she wakes up.”

“I’m not leaving.” Not yet.

“It’s not your fault.”

But it was. He’d hurt her. Just like before.

* * *

• • •

IT was time. Liam took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he had to do. Daisy had been awake for twelve hours. She’d had visits from doctors, police officers, reporters, and her relatives two by two. Layla had assured him that she was going to be fine and they were discharging her in the morning. The crowd had finally dwindled. Visiting hours were coming to a close. It was his turn to see her but he still didn’t know what he was going to say. Lost in thought, he was jolted back to reality by a sharp intake of breath.