The day Rowan got discharged, the weather was perfect.
He handled the paperwork himself and drove slowly back toward the Ashford Estate.
The car had just turned onto the tree-lined road at the entrance of Brookridge Estates when a figure suddenly lunged out from the bushes and threw himself straight at the front of the car.
"Crash—!"
Rowan slammed on the brakes, yanked the wheel hard, but the bumper still clipped the figure.
The guy crumpled to the ground.
Desmond.
Rowan's heart skipped a beat. He unbuckled and got out fast.
Desmond was sprawled on the pavement. His temple was scraped raw, trickling blood. His face was pale, his eyes shut—but his chest was still rising and falling.
Rowan immediately called 911 for an ambulance and police assistance.
The ambulance and police car showed up almost at the same time.
Since he was the driver involved, Rowan had to cooperate with the investigation.
He rode with the ambulance to the hospital and waited outside the Operating Room.
Not long after, Adrienne and his parents came rushing in.
Panic and worry were written all over their faces. They didn't even glance at Rowan standing off to the side. They went straight to the Operating Room door, grabbing the nurse who'd just stepped out.
"How's our son? Is he going to be okay?"
The nurse flinched at how frantic they looked. "He's still in surgery. You'll have to wait for the doctor."
Adrienne paced by the door, restless. His parents leaned on each other, eyes rimmed red.
From start to finish, not one of them asked Rowan: Are you hurt? Are you okay? Did that shake you up?

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