My eyes sting. I shake my head. "He passed away, Sawyer."
Sawyer shuts his eyes, and a single tear rolls out, gliding sideways before it soaks into the pillow. "He sacrificed himself."
I nod, the lump in my throat growing. "He died where he was born. On HCC land. He loved that ranch more than anything, and it's exactly where he'd have chosen for it to happen."
Sawyer opens his eyes. He looks so sad. "Right before he cut the rope, he said 'I'm sorry'. What did he mean? Why was he sorry?"
"Are you sure you heard him correctly?"
He nods, biting the inside of his lower lip while he mulls it over.
My fingers drift over his jaw, scraping on the stubble. “If you didn’t call me before the week was out, I was going to come up with a reason to call you. I couldn’t let it be over between us.”
He takes my hand and presses a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “I sold my California house. Everything that was in storage. It will serve someone else now.” He sighs, and the heated air streams against my skin. “There was never a chance I was going to stay away from you. I realized quickly that my heart wasn’t up to the task.”
His words reflect exactly what’s in my heart. How many nights did I fall asleep thinking about him? And then wake up the next morning, the thoughts continuing like my brain had pressed pause while it slumbered. Here he is now, in front of me. Bloodied and bruised, but he is here. He came back to me.
"Is Colt okay?" he asks. He doesn't sound too worried though. He saw him all the way up until they were taken to separate bays in the emergency room.
"Perfectly healthy, thanks to you."
He doesn't respond to my recognition. I don't think he enjoys it. Instead, Sawyer studies my hand. "Why are you wearing a ring on your wedding finger?"
The corner of my mouth turns up in a smile. "They told me I couldn't see you unless I was family. So I borrowed Dakota's ring and told them I'm your wife."
"I like how persistent you can be when something gets in your way." He turns my hand over, his finger tickling my palm as he traces the lines. "Is that something you think you could be sometime?"
"Persistent?" I ask the wrong question on purpose. "If the situation calls for it."
He looks up at me through his dark lashes. "My wife?"
His question thrills me, but I'm also devastated. My reaction is watered down, and not representative of how it truly makes me feel inside.
My head bobs up and down, a please smile curving my lips upward. "Yes. You’re it, Sawyer. There is no one else for me.”
"Good." Sawyer smiles, but it's sad too. "Kiss me."
I kiss him gently, because I don't know how he's feeling and he has been through a lot today. He grips the back of my head and holds me close. He is not gentle.
He kisses me like a man who feared for his life today. If he cares about his injuries, he doesn't show it. His fingers curl over my hip bone and his tongue invades my mouth.
Someone clears their throat. We break apart. Wes's head peers around the light blue hospital curtain. He pulls it all the way back. “Sorry to interrupt," he ducks his head in apology, “but—"
Dakota appears beside Wes, her foot outfitted in a walking boot. She’d stepped in a small hole while exploring with Colt and suffered a level two sprained ankle. She’d also narrowly avoided falling onto her stomach, and the scratches on her palms and down her right leg show how she’d awkwardly crawled after Colt.
Dakota steps tenderly across the small space and lines herself up at Sawyer's bedside. "Thank you," she says, gratitude saturating her voice. "I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you did today."
Sawyer waves away her declaration. "I was closest to him. Any decent person would have done the same."
From the edge of the small room, Wes speaks. "That's not true. I've seen plenty of decent people freeze in a moment of crisis. You were a hero today."
Sawyer blinks hard. "I'm sorry about Gramps. For your loss."
Wes bites his lower lip to staunch the overflow of tears that shine in his eyes. "That tricky bastard."
His words make us all breathe out a laugh. "Of course he would do what he did." Wes swipes at one eye. "That's probably why he insisted on being the one to go out there. He knew it might come to that, and he didn't want anyone else having to make that decision."
"Are Wyatt and Warner coming here?" I ask Wes, who was calling them when I was flashing Dakota's ring to the nurse. I slide it off my finger and hand it back to her, but it won't fit over her knuckles when she tries it.
