I was barely able to get the words out about what had happened to Sawyer before Bella told me to go — to not worry about anything except my daughter. I had no clue what to do, so the moment I got in my car, I called my parents. My hands shook and for the first time since Tanya had taken Sawyer from me, I cried. My mother ordered me to pull over on the interstate and within twenty minutes, they'd pulled up behind me.

I couldn't fucking drive. My daughter was possibly dying and I. Couldn't. Fucking. Drive.

"There are no flights until morning," Dad said as he slid into my driver's seat, forcing me over to the passenger side. "It's late and the traffic should be light, so hopefully it won't take us much more than three hours."

"She could be dead by then," I said, shaking my head. "God, she's in surgery. She's all alone."

"She's not going to die, son, and she won't be alone for long. It's going to be all right."

He started my car back up, quickly speeding back onto the interstate with Mom behind us. The drive was excruciating as my mind played the doctor's words over and over. I thought about everything that could go wrong — how Sawyer could die so easily. And then I thought about Tanya.

I wasn't in love with her, and hadn't been for years, but . . . she had been my wife. She was the mother of my child. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she was gone. She was dead, and it just seemed impossible.

"They were probably getting ice cream," I said softly. "Tanya promised her ice cream today. They were getting ice cream and now . . . Holy shit."

"I know, Edward," Dad said. "Why don't you try to get an update, hmm? It's been almost two hours. They might know something more."

I nodded, reaching for my phone in my pocket. In the chaos, I'd missed hearing a text message from Bella.

Your daughter's in my thoughts and I'm praying for a good outcome. Let me know if you need anything.

I didn't know what the hell to say back. I was still numb with fear and I was clueless how to respond, so I didn't yet. Instead, I dialed the number for the surgical department that Dr. Forester had given me.

Sawyer was still in surgery.

It took a little over three hours, but we made it to Providence Hospital in record time. How we didn't get pulled over was beyond me, but I couldn't seem to care. As soon as we got up to the surgical floor, I found out that Sawyer was still in surgery. There were no updates and the nurse couldn't call the operating room and ask.

If it weren't for my parents, I'd have torn through the floor to find my daughter. They forced me into a chair, though, and we kept waiting . . . and waiting and waiting as my watch ticked past four and a half hours since I'd gotten the call.

"It's taking too long," I sighed, dropping my head into my hands. "It must have been worse than what Dr. Forester told me."

Mom's hand rested against my back. "We don't know that, honey. I'm sure the surgeon will be out soon."

"Mr. Cullen?"

My head shot up at the male voice, finding a police officer entering the waiting room. "Yes," I said.

"I'm Sergeant Peters," he said, pulling a chair over and sitting down across from us. "I'm so sorry about the loss of your wife. I thought you might have questions regarding the accident, so I asked to be called once you arrived."

"What happened?"

"A drunk driver swerved into oncoming traffic and hit their car head on. After that, another car struck the driver's side. A total of five cars were involved in the accident."

My sorrow was replaced with rage in an instant as I hissed, "Is the drunk dead?"

"No," he sighed. "Last I heard he was at another hospital, but his injuries weren't life-threatening.

"He killed Tanya and possibly my daughter, yet he gets to live? How is that fucking fair?"

"Son, he'll pay for what he did," Dad said. "We need to focus on Sawyer, not him."

I shook my head in disgust, wishing this man had died. I didn't care how horrible of me that was, but he didn't deserve to walk away from this. "They were getting ice cream . . . goddamn ice cream."

"I'm so sorry for what you're going through," Sergeant Peters said. "He will be arrested for his crimes, and I'll keep you informed about what's going to happen. Here's my card."

"Yeah . . . thanks," I mumbled, nodding as he passed me the piece of paper.

"It's no problem. Your daughter's in my prayers."

"Thank you, Sergeant," Mom said, taking my hand as he left the room.

Before I could say anything else, the door opened once more and my eyes landed on a woman in scrubs. "Dr. Forester?" I asked.

She nodded, walking over to us as I stood. "First off, your daughter is stable. She's critical, but she fought hard throughout surgery. Please, take a seat."

"I need to see her." I shook my head.

"She's being taken to the PICU, but in the meantime, we need to discuss her injuries. Please sit?"

Begrudgingly, I fell back into my seat beside Mom. She put her arm through mine, offering a sympathetic smile as the doctor sat across from us.

"Sawyer's doing very well," Dr. Forester said. "Like I said on the phone, her spleen had ruptured and her liver and left lung were both punctured by her broken ribs. I had to remove her spleen, but I was able to repair her liver, and I did have to open her chest to repair her lung. She has a chest tube in, but she is breathing on her own now — which is incredible."

"What about her brain? Spinal cord? Heart?" Dad asked as his brow creased with worry.

"All of her scans have shown that there is no brain or spinal cord trauma, and her heart is fine. She did lose a lot of blood, though, so her BP is still lower than I'd like. We're continuing to give her transfusions as of right now."

I sighed, imagining all the damage my little girl had endured. The fact that she was alive was nothing short of a miracle, but I knew she wasn't out of the woods yet.

"What else?" I asked.

"Those were the most critical injuries, but she also has a compound fracture of her left radius and ulna that was closed during surgery, along with three fractured ribs, and a few lacerations. Nothing that won't heal with time, though."

"Are you sure her brain is all right?"

She nodded. "Perfectly fine."

I sighed in a bit of relief, but it wasn't long lasting. I cupped my hands over my face, trying to compose myself as tears fell from my eyes once more. I needed to see Sawyer, but not like this. I was her superman.

"What can you tell us about her mother, Tanya?" Dad asked.

"I am so sorry for your loss," she said. "She arrived first, but she'd already coded. We tried all we could, but nothing worked. I left her to care for Sawyer, but I can page the doctor who pronounced her for you."

I nodded, wiping the stray tears that had fallen. "Okay . . . Does Sawyer know?"

"No, we sedated her soon after she was brought in. Do you have any more questions?"

"Not right now. I just . . . I need to see her."

She nodded, standing up from her seat. "She should be settled, so I'll take you back to her. It might be a little while before she wakes up, though."

"I don't care. I need to be with her."

"She's alive, son," Dad said, smiling sadly. "Let's focus on that right now."

I knew I'd find my daughter to be bruised and battered. I'd seen accident victims more times in my life than I could count, but nothing prepared me for seeing my little girl in that hospital bed. The lights were dimmed and the machines made it anything but silent. It was my worst nightmare — only I wasn't dreaming.

This was real.

That was my daughter in that hospital bed.

Her hair was matted and still had flakes of blood throughout it, her skin was pale — almost translucent, even — and the bruises . . . they seemed to litter every inch of her tiny body already. She didn't even look like my Sawyer.

"If you have any questions, I'll be right outside," Dr. Forester said, squeezing my shoulder sympathetically. "We're not keeping her sedated, so she could wake up soon, but . . . that really just depends on her."

I nodded, turning my head to her. "Thank you for taking care of her."

"Of course." She smiled. "I'll be in soon to check on her."

As she left, pulling the sliding glass door closed behind her, I fell into a chair and found Sawyer's hand under the layer of blankets. It was so small in mine — smaller than I remembered.

"Hi, Sawyer Bean," I said softly as my voice cracked with tears. "Daddy's here. I'm right here and I love you so much."

I lifted my hand, brushing her hair from her forehead — careful of the oxygen tubing under her nose and over her cheeks. I watched her monitors closely, wishing her blood pressure was higher.

"She looks good, son," Dad said from across the bed as he inspected her incisions, chest tube, and IVs — meticulously going over every inch of his grandchild as if she were his patient. Lastly, his fingertips grazed over the bulky temporary splint covering her right arm, which went past her elbow. "Normal capillary refill, too."

"She looks broken," I mumbled. "God, how am I supposed to tell her about Tanya? How am I supposed to do . . . any of this?"

I was alone in this now, and she only had me to care for her. I was a fucking part-time dad — actually, more like seasonal. All I'd wanted for so long was to have her to myself and now I did. But I didn't want it like this. I suddenly realized that I didn't know the first thing about doing this on my own.

"We'll figure it out," Mom promised, laying her hand over mine on Sawyer's. "It won't be easy, but you'll do it. I know you can."

The next few hours ticked by slowly as Sawyer rested. She'd move slightly, wincing and groaning in pain but not waking up. All I wanted was for her to open her beautiful green eyes, but I also dreaded the inevitable moment she'd ask about Tanya.

Around eight in the morning, exhausted and running on fumes, I left Sawyer's side for the first time to stretch my legs and get coffee. I took my phone with me and glanced at Bella's text from earlier. As I waited for my coffee to brew, I decided to send her one back.

Sawyer's out of surgery and stable as of now. Thank you for thinking of her. I'll let you know how she does.

I didn't expect a response, but there was one almost instantly.

I'm so glad she's doing well. Thanks for letting me know.

Though our date had ended before dinner and nothing else would ever come of it, I was thankful for her support. We'd never date — my life as I knew it had changed completely — but . . . there could be a friendship there. It warmed my heart to know that someone who had only seen a picture of my baby girl kept her in her thoughts.

As I sipped my coffee, trying to fight the exhaustion, I decided to go ahead and start this — start telling people what had happened. I knew Mom and Dad had already talked to Alice, but Garrett didn't know.

"Why the hell are you calling me at eight in the morning?" he answered gruffly. "I was in the ER all night with one of your patients."

"I'm in Portland," I said, easing into a chair in the lounge. "Sawyer was . . . she and Tanya were in a car accident last night."

"Shit! What happened? Is Sawyer all right?"

"She's stable, but in critical condition. She was in surgery most of the night and she hasn't woken up yet. Tanya's gone, Garrett. She . . . she's dead."

"Fuck, who's our backup call?"

Of course he'd want to be here, and I honestly wanted nothing more than the support of my best friend. I couldn't have it, though. "I need you to take care of our patients. Dad's already spoken to Eleazar and he thinks the two of you can handle things for a while. Sawyer's surgeon is confident she'll make a full recovery, but I can't leave her."

"Yeah, don't even think about it. We'll handle the practice. Jesus Christ, Edward, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks, man. She's been through hell. Fuck, her tiny body is in pieces."

I wiped angrily at my tears as I recalled all of her injuries to him. After about ten minutes, though, I had to get back to Sawyer. She could wake up at any time, and I needed to be there.

"Take care and let me know how she does," he said.

I nodded to myself, standing and beginning the walk back to the room. "Of course. I'll talk to you later. Thanks for handling things."

"It's no problem. Give her a kiss for me."

I ended the phone call and pulled open the glass door to Sawyer's room, balancing the three cups of coffee with one arm and my chest. Mom had fallen asleep in a chair in the corner, but Dad was still wide awake, eyes on his only grandchild.

"Here," I said, holding the cup out to him as I took my seat once more. "No change?"

He shook his head, guzzling the disgusting but drinkable coffee. "She stirred again and I called her name, but she didn't respond. Her BP's a lot better."

My eyes glanced at the monitors and then the intravenous fluids dripping through the IVs. They had her on morphine right now, but I knew she wouldn't stay on the potent drug for long. She'd be in pain soon. Hell, for all I knew, she already was, and that thought killed me.

"Daddy's back, Bean," I said, caressing her cheek. "Come on and wake up for me, please? I need you."

"She's going to take her time, Edward," Dad said. "Why don't you rest your eyes, hmm? I'll stay awake."

"No." I shook my head. "I'm not sleeping until I can talk to her and . . . Shit."

"What?"

I sighed, pulling my phone out. "Tanya's mom. I haven't called her yet."

"I can do that for you. Give it to me."

He held his hand out, and though I knew I should be the one doing this, I passed it to him. Carolyn Sanders hated me, but she hadn't cared for her daughter much more, either. Last I'd heard, they hadn't spoken in a few years, but she deserved to know what had happened. And really, she deserved to hear it from me.

"I don't even know if I have the right number," I said.

"If not, I'm sure we'll figure out how to contact her. I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, standing from his seat and leaning down to kiss Sawyer's forehead. "I love you, sweetheart."

Once he left, I slid down in my seat, keeping a tight grip on my baby girl's hand as I watched her chest rise and fall with each breath. The machines that had seemed so loud when I first stepped foot in here were now a comfort, telling me she was here and still fighting.

"Please, wake up," I whispered. "Please."

I wasn't sure if it were just wishful thinking, but I could have sworn I felt her hand tighten around mine ever so softly. I jolted out of my seat, hovering above her as my hands pressed against her cheeks.

"Bean?"

One flutter . . . then another and another quickly followed as her eyes opened to mine.

"Mom," I called out, looking over as she jolted awake. "Her eyes are open."

She threw the blanket off of her legs as she grinned. "Oh, thank God!"

"Sawyer, can you hear me?" I asked, caressing her cheek.

She watched me drowsily, turning her head slightly to the side. "Daddy?" she rasped out, and I swear to God, the word had never sounded so incredible.

"It's me. You're in the hospital, but you're going to be okay. I promise."

Her nose scrunched as tears filled her eyes and she whimpered, "Owwie. M-make it st-stop."

My heart was in pieces as I pressed the nurse's button over and over, keeping one hand on her cheek. "We'll make it better, baby. I'm so sorry."

Her nurse, Lauren, was quick to run into the room and adjust the morphine drip as Dr. Forester had prescribed. Mom had sat down in the chair on Sawyer's left side, trying to soothe her with me as the medication began to work.

"It's so nice to see those pretty eyes, Sawyer," Lauren said, smiling as she checked her vitals. "How about some water?"

She passed me the cup and straw as I sat down on the bed. Sawyer watched us closely, remaining silent as I put the straw to her lips. She took a sip before pushing it back out with her tongue and licking her lips as Lauren pulled the thermometer from her temple.

"Fever?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No, she's doing great. I'll go page Dr. Forester and let her know that she's awake."

"Thanks," I said and then she left the room, leaving the three of us in silence for a moment.

"Are you still in pain?" Mom asked, fixing the nasal cannula under Sawyer's nose. "How about some more water?"

"No," Sawyer whispered. "My tummy hurts . . . and my chest feels funny."

"I know it does, Bean." I knew the questions were inevitable, so I sighed, trying to figure out how to start. "Do you remember what happened?"

She nodded as her bottom lip quivered. "The car hit us and, and . . . and then another, and it hurt and Mommy wouldn't talk to me," she cried. "Where's Mommy?"

I squeezed her hand, trying to keep myself composed as she looked around the room — her breathing growing more and more frantic as she realized Tanya wasn't here. "She was hurt really badly, baby," I said. "The doctors . . . they tried so hard to help her, but they couldn't. I'm so, so sorry, but Mommy went to heaven."

"No," she whimpered, shaking her head. "No!"

"They tried, baby. They tried so hard, but her injuries . . . they were too much. She loves you. She would be here if she could, I swear."

"I don't w-want her in heav-heaven."

I cleared my throat, cupping her cheek as she cried. "I don't either. I am so sorry. What do you need, Bean? What can I do?"

She didn't answer me as she continued to cry. What could she say, after all? What could I say to make this better? Tanya was gone . . . actually gone. I could barely wrap my head around it, so how was she supposed to?

"What do I do?" I asked, looking up at Mom as she covered her mouth, crying softly.

"I don't know, honey," she sniffled. "We just . . . be there for her."

So, I did the only thing I could think of. Being careful of the IVs and wires, I stretched out on the bed and laid beside my daughter. She turned her head into my chest, and I just held her as she cried.

As we both did.

I was a composed man. I thrived in stressful situations and didn't break a sweat. But now . . . the one time I needed to be composed when everything had changed, I wasn't. Our lives had been irrevocably altered, and I was all she had now. I was her only parent and every choice, every decision was on me.

"We're going to be okay. We'll get through this," I promised as I kissed her temple, praying I wasn't lying. I didn't know what the hell would happen next, but I'd do whatever I had to for her. I would put my daughter back together.

"I love you, Sawyer."

I don't own Twilight.

I know I said weekly, but I couldn't help myself! Thank you all so much for the kind words! They've blown me away, and I completely understand anyone who wants to wait until I mark complete to read.