So maybe, just maybe, this path doesn’t mean wecan’tbe parents.
Maybe it means it will happen differently.
And that’s okay.
I may never carry our child inside me, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love them with everything I have. Love doesn’t start with biology—it begins with heart. And mine has enough room to love a child completely, no matter how they come to us.
As Colt wheels me slowly along the garden path, I take in the world around me. The sunflowers lining the walkway stretch tall, proud, golden. The breeze plays across my skin, warm and soft. The grass sways gently, each blade dancing like it knows something I don’t. For the first time in a long while, I feel at ease.
The wind’s whistle through the trees hums a song of peace, settling something deep inside me. We’ve only been out here a few minutes, but already, I know that things are going to be okay.
Life is a miracle.
It deserves to be cherished.
And even when it deals us a losing hand, there’s always another round.
You fold, take a breath, and start over with something stronger.
Something new.
Life isn’t easy.
Not for anyone.
As I glance around and catch sight of other patients moving slowly through the gardens—some with IV poles, some being helped to walk—I realize, I don’t have it so bad.
Colt slows us near a bench tucked beneath the broad arms of an old tree. He sits beside me, close, steady, always there. I tip my head back, close my eyes, and let the sunlight wash over my face.
Warm. Steady. Bright.
And for the first time since the accident, I let myself believe that maybe this is the beginning of something new. Something still beautiful.
“How are you feeling?” Colt asks softly.
I keep my eyes closed and smile on purpose, soaking in the peace of this moment. “I feel… warm, calm, and loved,” I murmur. “And I know that everything is going to be okay.”
When I open my eyes, Colt is watching me, his expression full of quiet awe.
“You feel all that from coming outside?” he smirks, one brow raised as he winks.
I roll my eyes and nod as he reaches for my hand, threading our fingers together with that familiar, grounding touch.
“You’re right about one thing, though,” he says, his voice dropping to something deeper, more serious. “Everythingwillbe okay.” He smiles. “I know this is shit. No, it’s fucking terrible. But we have options. And trust me, wewillbe parents one day.”
His gaze burns into mine as he continues, “But first, you need to get better. We need to get married. Because almost losing you? It made me realize something I already knew but hadn’t said out loud, I need you more than anything in this world, Dee. More than music. More than the high. More than life itself. I need you to be my wife. And as soon as you’re better, we’re planning the whole damn thing. Deal?”
My smile breaks through fully this time, genuine and bright. I nod, squeezing Colt’s hand. “You are such a romantic when you want to be.”
“Shh,” he whispers, leaning in. “It’s our little secret. Can’t have the world knowing that now, can we?”
“I think the world figured it out when you released “Until the End of Time,”” I tease. “Pretty sure the cat’s already out of the bag, babe.”
He leans in, brushing his lips over mine, so soft, sweet, and careful.
Always so careful.
I know he’s trying not to hurt me, but I miss his intensity. I miss the way he used to kiss me, as if the world could end at any second. I love this tender version of him, but… “You can kiss me properly, you know,” I murmur against his lips.
