Lena's POV
Abel drove to the hospital in twelve minutes.
I know because Henry tracked him, not intrusively, just the Morrison instinct of a family that had learned to keep tabs on each other when something was happening, the same instinct that had Henry's phone in his hand before Abel's car had cleared the gate.
The rest of us stayed at the dinner table.
Not awkwardly. The dinner continued in the particular way that Morrison family dinners continued when something had happened and something required processing, the conversation shifted, became quieter, found its own level. Marcus cleared plates without being asked. Damien refilled his coffee. Ethan, unaware that anything had changed, conducted his own investigation of his bouncy chair with the same focused intensity as before.
I watch
