“Vaguely,” I lie. I remember every damn second. Every second. Every explosion. Every decision that led me here. But that mission is sealed under layers of silence and duty. He doesn’t get to know.
“You’re in Germany. At LRMC. You were brought here after sustaining multiple fractures. Two surgeries to remove splinters from your spine.” He hesitates. “Can you move your toes?”
My breath catches.
Nothing.
I try again.
Still nothing.
“I… I can’t move my legs.”
Christian doesn’t flinch. “Tell me what you can feel.”
“Tickling,” I grit out. “Why can’t I move my legs?”
He presses lightly against my foot. I barely feel it.
“And now?”
“Bother. Just… faint.” Panic claws at my chest. “Doctor—why can’t I move my legs?!”
“You’ve had a delicate surgery,” he replies, voice calm but unreadable. “We need a few more days to see if it was successful. There’s swelling around the spinal cord. It may be temporary.”
“Will I walk again?”
“I can’t tell you yet,” he says, and that yet sounds too much like a lie. “But I’m confident.”
My heart slams against my ribs. I lurch forward—and the sudden motion wakes her.
She blinks awake, instantly alert, her hand clutching mine. Her eyes—red-rimmed, raw with fear—fill with tears.
“Nate… thank heaven,” she breathes, her voice breaking as her fingers caress my jaw. “How do you feel, love?”
I try to smile, but my mouth can’t find the shape. “Still stoned.”
She lets out a strangled laugh, pressing her forehead to mine.
“Chris, what’s going on?” she asks the surgeon, her voice strained with urgency.
“He’s stable. He’ll be taken for testing later, but you were right—he’s a fighter,” Christian answers. He closes the folder, nods once, and leaves us in silence.
That silence strangles me.
I stare at her, at the way she looks at me like I’m still him. Still her Nate.
But I’m not.
I’m broken. A liability. A future full of limitations. And she deserves more than a man she has to carry.
I can’t—won’t—let her trade her life for mine.
“You can go, Isabel,” I snap, my voice cold and cruel on purpose.
Her face crumples. “Nate…”
“I said GO AWAY!” I bark, my fingers tightening around the sheet. The pain is sharp but welcome. At least it’s something.
