She stares at me like she’s trying to understand who I am beneath the leather and tattoos and anger.Like she’s trying to decide if I’m someone she can trust.
God, I wish I could give her something easy.A smile.A memory.A promise that doesn’t come wrapped in danger.
Instead she gets me, and I’m nothing but a pile of problems and sharp edges.
“I feel like I should know you,” she mutters after a moment.“Like something in me recognizes you, but my brain won’t catch up.”
That hits me harder than anything else today.My voice drops to a whisper.“Maybe it will.When you’re ready.”
She nods faintly, eyes growing heavy as the pain meds begin to take hold.
I watch her fight sleep, lashes fluttering, her breathing slowing.She looks fragile in a way that makes every cell in my body go protective and violent at the same time.
A nurse steps back in.“She needs rest.”
I nod once.But I don’t move.“Sir,” she says gently, not unkindly, “visiting hours are about to end.”
Kelly murmurs, half-asleep, “Don’t leave.”
My heart lurches.
The nurse sees it.Softens.“You can stay until she’s fully asleep.Five minutes.”
I nod again.
Kelly’s breathing deepens, her brow smoothing, her fingers loosening their grip on the blanket.I stand there in the dim light, watching her chest rise and fall, memorizing every breath like I’m scared it might stop if I blink.
When I finally back away, it’s slow.Careful.Like leaving the room too fast might break something sacred.
The hallway lights are harsh after the warm dimness of her room.I walk until I’m far enough away that the tightness in my chest cracks open.I lean against the wall and press my hands to my face.My mind races with everything I didn’t say.Everything I can’t say now.Everything I already know I’ll have to fight for again.
She doesn’t remember me.But that doesn’t matter.I remember her.Every damn inch.
And whoever did this—whoever hit her—they just signed their own death sentence.
Because Kelly might not know me right now, but I know exactly who she is.And that is mine.
And I will burn the world down before I let anything happen to her again.
Six
Kelly
My mind is a puzzle with a missing center piece.
The light in the hospital room is soft when I wake again, pale morning sun filtering through the blinds.It should feel comforting, warm, gentle.
It doesn’t.Everything inside me feels… wrong.Muted.Shifted half an inch to the left.Like the world knows something I don’t.
The beeping beside my bed is steady — too steady — compared to the thundering panic in my chest.I blink slowly, trying to orient myself.It takes effort, like lifting my eyelids is a job they aren’t qualified for.
Car.Truck.Pain.Dark.Fear.
The memory comes in a wave that makes my stomach heave.
I push the heel of my hand into my forehead.The pressure does nothing to ease the pounding behind my eyes.
“Hey.Easy.”The voice is deep.Gravelly.Familiar in a way that shouldn’t be possible.
