“You arrogant, beautiful, stupid man.”
The ventilator kept breathing for him.
“I got the clean air,” I whispered. “I got the life. The school. The friends. The future. I got everything you thought you were giving me by staying away.”
My fingers brushed his knuckles.
“And you know what? You were right. I needed it. I needed to become someone who wasn’t waiting for rescue. I needed to know I could stand on my own. I needed Lily. I needed nursing. I needed to be Destiny Rourke without a biker shadow stretched over every decision.”
I swallowed.
“But I didn’t need you gone forever.”
That truth left me shaking.
I lowered my forehead to the edge of the bed beside his hand.
Not on him.
Beside him.
Close enough to feel the heat of his skin through the space between us.
“I never stopped loving you,” I whispered.
There.
The words existed now.
In a hospital room.
Beside machines.
Beside the chair that belonged to another woman.
“I tried. I tried so hard. I told myself it was a crush. Trauma. First rescue. First kiss. First man who made me feel safe when I had no reason to trust my own body anymore. I told myself I was young and foolish and dramatic. I told myself love was supposed to be practical and kind and involve men like Daniel Ducati with family brunches and med school and hands that never had blood under the nails.”
A sob shook me.
“But it was you.”
I lifted my head and looked at his face.
“It was always you.”
For one desperate, selfish second, I wanted to press my mouth to his.
I wanted to kiss him back to life like fairy tales had not been written by people with no respect for hospital policy, fiancées, or the mess real love left behind.
I did not.
I couldn’t.
Georgia’s ring flashed in my mind.
Mandy’s name followed it.
I pulled back.
