Ethan did not think. He dropped his phone, left the engine running, and was on his knees before the gate finished closing behind the car.
He touched the woman’s shoulder. Her skin felt wrong. Cool in a way that did not belong to a spring evening.
“Hey,” he said, too loudly, panic already tightening his chest. “Can you hear me.”
She did not respond. The boys’ cries echoed against the tall hedges, bouncing back at them until the driveway felt too small for all that fear.
Ethan slid one arm behind her back and another under her legs. She weighed almost nothing, and the realization hit him hard enough to steal his breath. This was not someone who had been eating well. Or resting. Or living safely.
“Get in the car,” he ordered, sharper than he meant to be.
The boys scrambled into the back seat, hands fumbling with the doors, their eyes never leaving the woman.
Ethan laid her across the leather seat, pulling off his jacket and folding it beneath her head. Her lips were pale. Her breathing was faint but steady. Noah leaned forward, tears streaking his face. “Is she going to die.”
Ethan gripped the steering wheel.
“I do not know,” he admitted. “But I am not letting her be alone.”