The sun breaks bright and clear the following afternoon, burning away the lingering morning mist, but the knot in my stomach only tightens as Locke’s truck pulls into the medical clinic’s parking lot.
He steps out, rounding the truck to open my door. His hand instantly finds mine, his long fingers interlacing firmly with mine as we walk up the concrete path. The air is crisp, but his palm is pure warmth against my cold skin.
Inside, the clinic is mercifully empty. We don't wait long. Within five minutes, a nurse leads us down a quiet hallway and into Examination Room 4.
The door opens a moment later, and Dr. Innis steps in. At our last visit, she was bright and cheerful, but today, her expression is heavy with serious concern.
Right away, I feel my stress and worry spike.
“Zara, Locke
