Suddenly, Teddy’s hand is at my shoulder, his voice soft. “Hey, you okay? You need a minute?” I blink, glancing around. I didn’t even realize I’d stopped walking. We’re standing in the middle of the hallway, still feet away from the reception desk. “Good morning,” the receptionist chimes in Swedish. “Welcome to Saint Ingegerd Hospital. How can I help direct you this morning?” Shrugging away from Teddy, I step forward. “I’m here to see a patient. Karolina Karlsson. I was told she’s in the pediatric trauma center.”
