My breath stops. Everything stops.
Then chaos erupts as crew members rush toward where Brandon landed. Tony shouts for medics, and someone yells to shut down all cameras. But I can't move. My feet are rooted to the floor like I'm frozen in place, watching this nightmare unfold in slow motion.
“Brandon!” His name tears out of my throat before I can stop it, raw and desperate.
I can see him now, lying too still on the mats, his left arm bent at an angle that makes my stomach lurch. There's blood on his forehead where he must have hit something on the way down.
My heart is hammering so hard against my ribs that I think it might crack them. I try to move, try to run to him, but mylegs feel like they're made of concrete. The sound that came out of me when he hit the ground—was that me screaming? I can't remember making that sound, but my throat feels raw.
“Call an ambulance!” Tony shouts, kneeling beside Brandon while other crew members clear the area.
That breaks the spell. I'm running before I realize I'm moving, pushing past people, my hands shaking so violently I can barely control them. But someone catches my arm before I can reach him.
“Ma'am, please step back. Let the medics work.”
I want to fight them, want to shove past and get to Brandon, but I can't catch my breath long enough to argue. I watch from a few feet away as they check his pulse, carefully examine his arm, and shine a light in his eyes. And all I can think is that I came here to ask him about some stupid miscommunication when I should have just told him that I'm falling in love with him.
thirty-five
. . .
Brandon
The first thingI'm aware of is the beeping. Steady, electronic, the kind of sound that immediately tells you you're somewhere you don't want to be. Hospital. The air smells like disinfectant and floor wax, with an underlying medicinal sharpness that makes my throat feel scratchy.
The second thing is the dull ache radiating from my left arm, which feels heavy and wrong in a way that suggests it's been immobilized. When I try to flex my fingers, something hard and rough scrapes against the thin hospital blanket. I realize I'm in a cast from my hand to just below my elbow.
The third thing is warmth. Someone's holding my right hand, and their skin is soft against my palm, anchoring me to consciousness.
My eyes blink open, and my mouth tastes like cotton and something metallic, likely from whatever painkillers they've pumped into me.
The room is dim, but not dark, with that twilight hospital lighting that never lets you know what time it is. The bed feels too narrow, the mattress firm in that institutional way,and beneath the strong smell of astringent is something more familiar.
Then I see Stella.
She's sitting in the plastic hospital chair, pulled up close to my bed, her fingers interlaced with mine, and she looks like she's been crying. Her hair is messier than usual, and there are mascara smudges under her eyes that she hasn't bothered to wipe away. The hint of vanilla and citrus is almost healing when I catch a whiff.
“Hey,” I manage, my voice dry and rough like I've been swallowing sandpaper.
“Oh, thank God.” The relief in her voice is so profound that it makes my chest tight. “How do you feel?”
“Like I fell off a building.” I try to sit up and immediately think better of it when my head protests with a sharp spike of pain. The room tilts slightly, and I have to close my eyes until it settles. “What happened? Last thing I remember was that cable snapping.”
“Fifteen-foot fall when your safety line broke,” Stella says, and her grip on my hand tightens. “You've got a broken arm and a concussion, but the doctor said you're incredibly lucky. The way you managed to adjust mid-fall and hit the mats probably saved you from much worse.”
“How long was I out?”
“About three hours. They had to set your arm and do some scans to make sure there was no internal bleeding.” She reaches over to brush hair off my forehead with her free hand. “Tony said you knew exactly what to do when the cable snapped. That your experience saved you.”
The touch is gentle, careful, but I can feel her hand trembling slightly. “Hey, I'm okay. Really.”
“You could have died, Brandon.” Her voice cracks on the words. “When I saw you fall, when you weren't moving. I thought I was going to lose you before I ever got to tell you…”
She trails off, but something in her expression makes my heart rate pick up, which apparently registers on the monitor because it starts beeping faster.
“Tell me what?” I ask softly.
Stella takes a shaky breath, and her eyes meet mine with an intensity that makes everything else fade away. “That I'm in love with you. That I have been for weeks, maybe months, and I was too scared to admit it. That what happened between us wasn't just physical for me, and I don't care if it was just that for you because I needed you to know.”
