Okay is not a word that means anything to me right now. I need to see him for myself.
I spot him on a bed and everything inside me lurches.
My eyes race over him from head to toe, scanning for damage like it’s instinct, like it’s survival. His turnout gear is half on, half peeled away, blackened and streaked with soot. There’s dried blood along his hairline, dark against his skin, and a smear on his cheek that makes my chest seize until I realize it’s not still bleeding.
Bruising is already blooming along his jaw. His hands are scraped, knuckles raw and angry looking. His jacket hangs open, collar askew, like it was torn off in a hurry.
His hair is mussed, wild in that way it only gets after a rough call. His brow is furrowed, mouth pulled tight, irritation written all over him. He looks uncomfortable. Annoyed. Like he wants to be anywhere but here.
Not broken.
The realization hits me so hard my knees almost give out.
He’s breathing. He’s conscious. He’s glaring at the ceiling like he’s mad about being stuck in a hospital bed instead of out there doing his job.
Relief crashes through me, hot and dizzy, and I have to press a hand to my chest to keep myself upright.
Oh, thank God.
He turns his head then, eyes finding mine, and something in his expression softens immediately.
And that’s when I know, down to my bones, that we’re going to be okay.
“Poppy,” he murmurs, like he didn’t just take years off my life.
I rush to him and kiss his face, relieved to see him. “What happened?”
“I’m fine,” he says immediately.
The nurse snorts. “No, he’s not. He has a concussion.”
Ollie rolls his eyes. “It’s mild.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You blacked out.”
“I’m fine.”
I hug him hard, pressing my face into his neck, breathing him in, the smell of smoke, sweat, and him.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I whisper. “Ollie, we need you to be safe.”
His arms wrap around me, solid and warm. “I know. I’m okay.”
“We’re taking him for another test. We’ll be right back. You can wait here,” the nurse tells as she wheels his bed away.
His helmet is on the chair beside the bed. I notice it because something’s sticking out of it.I reach for it and pull out the pictures tucked inside.One of us together at The Black Dog posing for a selfie. It’s from before we got together but the way his arm is around me, we look like a couple. I can’t believe I missed all the clues that he was mine long before he was.One of him and Owen fishing, both of them grinning while Ollie leans down next to him.Another one of newborn baby Ellie sleeping on me, Owen next to me on the couch, napping as well. I didn’t even know he took that one.
My throat closes as hot tears stream down my cheeks.
Ollie’s wheeled back in and he looks okay but tired.
“I’m so glad you’re okay. I love you so much.”
Theresa’s voice cuts through the hall like a knife, ruining the moment. “I have a right to see my son.”
“Please don’t let my mom in here,” he says to the nurse.
She nods. “Got it.”
