A weak chuckle escapes me, even though it sends a spike of pain straight through my chest. I wince. “Guess I can’t make any promises,” I rasp, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth despite everything.
She rolls her eyes, though I catch the way she’s trying to hold back a smile. “You’re impossible.” There’s no real anger in her voice.
“What the fuck happened to me?”
She takes a deep breath, her eyes never leaving mine. “You hit that deer head-on before you went into the river. More specifically, you broke three ribs, punctured your left lung, fractured your right femur, and got yourself a nasty concussion to top it all off. Oh, and stitches. Everywhere.”
As she talks, her fingers are already at work—checking the IV line, adjusting the blanket like it’s second nature, her movements calm, practiced, and efficient. She glances at the monitor beside me, then lightly presses two fingers to my wrist, counting silently.
I should probably be more concerned about the punctured lung and the whole near-death experience, but instead, all I can think is…Bree in nurse mode is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I manage a weak, lopsided grin. “So, you saying I look good, or…?”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m saying you’re lucky you’re already in a hospital, because when you’re better, I might just put you back in one.”
Yep. Definitely hot.
Her face shifts. That fierce spark falters, and her voice cracks on the next words. “You’ve been out for four days, Callan.”
Four days? Christ. Seriously? I try to wrap my head around it, but my brain feels like it’s trudging through molasses.
“The doctors… They weren’t sure when you’d wake up…”
I give her hand a weak squeeze. “Hey,” I rasp, doing my best to sound tough, “takes more than a deer to keep a MacKenzie down.”
She’s not laughing. Not even close. She shakes her head like she’s trying to rattle loose everything she’s held in. “You don’t get it. I was terrified.” Her voice rises with unrestrained emotion. “I sat here and watched doctors come and go. I listened to your mom cry in the hallway. I counted the seconds between beeps on your monitor because it was the only proof I had that you were still alive.”
She bites her lip hard enough to leave a mark, her hands trembling now. “Everyone’s been in and out, trying to be strong. But I couldn’t leave. Not once. Because what if something happened when I wasn’t here?”
Silence coils thick between us. I swallow hard, but it burns all the way down. Everything hurts. My lungs, my ribs, my throat. Hell, even my damn eyelashes feel bruised. She’s looking down at me, eyes brimming, and I hate that I put that look there. That I was the reason she had to be so goddamn strong.
I shift my hand toward hers. It’s a clumsy movement, my fingers fumbling against the blanket, but Ifind her wrist and curl the tips of my fingers around it. Just enough to keep her from drifting away with all that pain she’s carrying.
“I love you,” I say, pausing to breathe through the tightness in my chest. “I fucking love you, Brianna. And I know that doesn’t fix what I put you through, but it’s the truth.”
She stares at me.
Her eyes are wide and wet and shining with affection I don’t deserve, but fuck, I want it. I want her to believe me. To feel every word I just rasped out.
I’m bracing for silence. Or anger. Or maybe nothing in return at all, because after what I’ve put her through, I’m not sure I’ve earned anything.
Then she cracks.
Her face crumples like she’s been holding it together with tape and twine. The second she breaks, something inside me does the same. Tears spill down her cheeks, and she covers her mouth with her hand like she’s trying to hold back a sob. It breaks free anyway.
“You…” Her voice wobbles. “You’re such a goddamn idiot.”
I blink. Okay. Not what I expected, but not the worst, either.
When her forehead drops to our joined hands, I swear my ribs might snap with the way my heart’s beating.
“You scared the hell out of me, Callan. I thought I was going to lose you before I ever got the chance to tell you that I love you, too.”
Did I hear that right? Or did the meds fry my brain?
She looks up at me, her eyes swimming, but fierce in the way only Bree can be when she’s dead set on cutting straight through me. “You think I sat in this hospital because I felt obligated? I couldn’t leave because every part of me is tied to you. Because I love you, and it hurts. It hurts so damn much, but I’dstillchoose it.”
I try to speak, but all I can do is look at her, memorize her, like I’ll never get another chance.
