For one long second, no one moved.
The nurse standing near the medication cart looked from Liam to Ethan, as though waiting for one of them to laugh and explain that there had been some mistake.
Ethan recovered first.
He always did.
His expression softened into the patient, almost wounded look he wore whenever someone questioned him.
“I understand how this appears,” he said quietly. “But my wife is confused. She hit her head. I brought her here because I was worried about her.”
Liam’s hand remained on the wall phone.
“My sister,” he said, “has injuries that require evaluation.”
The word sister landed differently than any accusation could have.
Ethan stared at him.
Then at me.
I watched the realization take shape behind his eyes.
Carter.
