Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
F ord
The meeting room at the new Cove site smells like fresh drywall and stale coffee.
Jesse, Noah, Wes and I are huddled around the table, poring through the mock-ups for the sustainability campaign while the faint sound of the ongoing construction outside echoes around us.
It should feel like progress. Like momentum. But all I feel is stress.
“We need more than a PR spin,” I say, tugging at the back of my neck. “If we’re going to rebuild trust, we need to show them what’s changed, not just tell them.”
Noah nods. “Factory tours, transparency reports. Let them see it for themselves.”
“Maybe we pair the new campaign launch with a video series,” Wes chimes in. “Real employees, behind-the-scenes footage.”
It’s a solid idea. Usually, this is where I would step up to flesh out the details, make sure we’ve thought of every possible obstacle and angle but all I can think about is her.
I glance at my phone on the table. Still nothing.
I texted Landyn hours ago. It was just a quick message between meetings.
How’s your day looking? Can’t stop thinking about last night.
There’s been no reply. The rational side of my brain knows she’s probably busy at work but there’s something tugging at me, telling me that maybe there is something wrong. I send off another quick text.
Me: Everything okay?
Telling myself not to panic, I return my focus to the meeting. I nod at the right moments, contribute when needed, but when I turn my phone over again 30 minutes later to find that there’s still no response, something inside me knots.
I know Landyn, she always answers her messages. The hairs on the back of my neck are on end. I realize I’m getting desperate now, but I’m beyond caring how it looks. I tap out another message.
Me: Landyn?
The hum of unease grows in my chest. I know she has her own life, and there are plenty of perfectly reasonable explanations for why she hasn’t replied. But something feels off, and I’ve never been good at waiting when it comes to her.
We work through lunch, so by the time five o’clock hits, we’re all starving.
We agree to take a quick break, and I use the time to go outside and get some fresh air, hopefully get my head on straight.
But it doesn’t help. Instead, the knot in my stomach tightens into something sharper. Something closer to fear.
I pull out my phone and stare at the thread. Three messages. No replies. No read receipts.
Me: Landyn, just checking in. Can you let me know you’re okay?
I hesitate for half a second before tapping her name and pressing the call button. It rings once, twice, then goes to voicemail.
“Hey, it’s Landyn. Leave a message?—”
I hang up. That sinking feeling in my gut kicks hard. This silence doesn’t feel like her. I send one more message, my thumb flying across the screen.
Me: Please text me when you see this. I’m starting to worry.
Behind me, I hear the creak of a door and turn to see all three of my brothers standing on the landing, staring at me.
“What?” I ask, regretting how irritable it sounds.
“Alright,” Wes says, coming to stand next to me. “You’ve looked at your phone more than the budget projections. Who are you texting?”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “Landyn. She’s not answering.”
Jesse looks up from his phone. “Is that strange?”
“She always answers.” I frown. “Pretty much right away. But it’s been all day.”
“What’s up with you two these days?” Noah asks. “Is it serious?
I exhale slowly, the weight of it pressing against my ribs. “Yeah. I think it is.”
That gets a reaction. Jesse whistles low. Wes raises an eyebrow.
“You think it is?” Jesse asks, grinning. “Big words, Winters. ”
“It’s been serious for me for a while.”
My brothers go quiet for a beat.
“You worried about her?” Wes asks, voice more serious now.
“I don’t know what’s going on, and I hate it,” I admit. “I don’t know if she’s okay, or if something happened, or?—”
“Okay, let’s try not to freak out,” Wes says. “Try the office. Maybe she’s been in meetings all day.”
I nod, swiping my phone to life and calling the Cove reception line. Chloe at reception answers on the second ring with her usual chipper greeting. “Cove! This is Chloe!”
“It’s Ford. Did Landyn come in today?”
There’s a beat of hesitation. “No. She called in this morning. Said it was a family emergency.”
My stomach drops. “Did she tell you what’s going on?”
“No, I’m sorry. She didn’t elaborate. Would you like me to look up her phone number for you so you can ask her yourself?”
“No, It’s fine, Chloe. Can you put Becca on?”
“Sure thing.”
After a few minutes, Becca is on the line. “Hi Ford…this is Becca.”
I lower my voice, tone firm but not unkind. “I know you and Landyn are friends, I know you talk. I’m not asking as your boss. I just…I’m worried. I’ve been trying to reach her all day. Do you know where she is?”
The beat of silence on the other end of the phone tells me she knows something. “Becca, please.”
“I—Ford, I don’t think I should…”
“Please.”
There’s a sigh. Then a soft voice. “She’s at the hospital…with her mom.”
Everything stills. “What’s wrong? ”
“I don’t know exactly. She just said her mom fainted this morning in her kitchen and she needed to take her in. That’s all she told me, I swear.”
“Everything okay?” Noah asks after I end the call.
“Not really…I mean, it sounds like Landyn’s fine, but her mom’s in the hospital. Landyn’s there with her now. The two of them are very close, so she’s probably pretty worried.”
Noah claps a hand to my shoulder. “Then go find her, man. It might help her to see a friendly face. We’ll handle things here.”
I hesitate for a split second. Landyn would have told me if she wanted me there.
Maybe she needs space. But the image of her pacing the hospital waiting room all alone pushes any doubt from my mind.
I can’t just sit here, not when she might need me.
I’m out the door without even saying goodbye.
I run across the parking lot, jump into my truck, and start the engine before I have a chance to talk myself out of it.
I throw the truck into gear and head straight for the highway. I don’t know what I’ll be walking into when I get to the hospital, but I know I’m not going to let her go through it alone.
After a 45-minute drive, which should have taken over an hour, I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot. As soon as I walk through the sliding glass doors of the ER, the sterile scent of antiseptic hits me in the face. My boots echo on the tile floor as I make a beeline for the front desk.
“Hi. I’m looking for a patient—Carolyn Sinclair. Can you tell me what room she’s in?”
The nurse behind the counter gives me a quick once-over. “Are you family?”
“No. But I—” I scrub a hand through my hair. “I just need to know if she’s okay. Please. ”
“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t release any information unless you are immediate family.”
Of course. Red tape. I grit my teeth and take a step back, trying to reel in my frustration. I’m about to pull out my phone again and try Landyn one more time when I spot a familiar face near the exit of the ER.
He’s older now—grayer at the temples and a little broader—but I’d recognize Landyn’s dad anywhere. And he’s not alone.
He’s holding the hand of a little girl with long, dark-blonde curls. She’s clutching a juice box, her eyes darting around the hospital, curious and wide. Something tugs low in my gut.
Landyn’s dad looks up and meets my gaze. He slows, clearly recognizing me. There’s a beat—just one—before he angles toward me, his hand still firmly holding the little girl’s.
“Ford,” he says as he approaches.
I nod. “Hey, Mr. Sinclair.”
“It’s been a long time,” he says, glancing down at the little girl, then back up at me. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I heard about Carolyn. I—I couldn’t get a hold of Landyn. I was worried.”
His mouth presses into a line. He studies me for a moment, eyes narrowing like he’s weighing something.
“She’s inside. With her mom.”
I nod. It seems like he’s about to say more, but instead he clears his throat, looks away. There is an odd energy between us, like I’m not quite getting the whole picture and he’s not quite willing to fill it in for me.
I glance down again at the little girl as the silence stretches on. She looks up at me, eyes big and startlingly familiar. Something stirs in my chest. A question I don’t voice.
“I’ll let Landyn know you’re here,” Mr. Sinclair saying finally. “She will probably want to see you,” He gives my shoulder a firm pat and then turns and heads toward the ER doors, the little girl skipping beside him.
And I’m left standing there, heart thudding, wondering why I suddenly feel like the ground just shifted beneath me.