Page 144 of Wyatt

York rounded on him. “We’ll find her, Wyatt.” Something resolute, even lethal in his tone.

Wyatt leaned back. Looked out the window.Please, God, let her be okay.His eyes burned, along with his throat and…

Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it.

The voice was low, solid, and so familiar it felt like his father had sat down beside him. But suddenly, he heard him.

Change your name or change your ways.

His name wasn’t Marshall. Or even the Hottie of Hockey.

It wasbeloved son.

He’d spent his entire life trying to be someone who mattered. And it had cost him everything.You’re enough, and you’re loved because God says so. Nothing else.

And Wyatt didn’t care what anyone thought of him. Let his brothers be the heroes, let his career go up in flames. He put his hand over his mouth, his eyes blurring.

I believe you, God. I give you my fame, my future, and my life. I give it all to You. Whatever happens, please, save Coco. Please, just save Coco.

They pulled into the circle drive near the main entrance. A tiered outside parking lot flanked the east side of the building.

“I don’t see a camper,” York said.

“There’s another lot,” Wyatt said. “On the west side.”

Tate gunned it around the circle and back out to Penny Drive.

Wyatt looked up but hadn’t a clue what window might be Mikka’s as they passed the sprawling buildings.

Tate turned into the west lot. More tiered parking, landscaped with spruce trees, flowers, and fully populated near the entrance.

“There!” York said, pointing.

On the third tier, near the back of the lot—an orange Subaru wagon took up three spaces, a tiny trailer hooked onto the hitch and parked horizontally under the shade of a cedar tree.

Tate rounded the top tier and gunned it, coming around the back side.

Yes. Wyatt leaned up, letting out his breath.Yes—

The trailer exploded with such force it shook the SUV. Pellets of stone, rock, and debris bulleted the front windshield.

Tate slammed on his brakes.

Tate ducked his head, York doing the same.

Wyatt just stared at the fire, now engulfing not only the trailer, but the Subaru.

What—?

No—Please—

He was out of the car, running, hobbling toward the fire. “Coco!”

The heat burned his face and coughed out black into the sky as it consumed rubber and foam and…

“Wyatt—stay back!” Tate grabbed him around the waist, pulled him back.

“No!” He fought him, but York grabbed his arm. “Let me go!”