Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
I lock onto its silhouette, panic clawing at the edges as hope hangs on by a thread.
“If there was ever a time to prove yourself…it’s now.” The words fall on a breathless prayer, desperate and torn.
It happens suddenly. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, something flashes, a flicker of warmth pushing through the fear, subtle but undeniable.
It’s strong enough to anchor the spiral, not calm, not even close, but enough to carry me through. I cling to it with everything I am and before long, the hospital comes into view—cold, sterile, and unwelcoming.
I swerve into the lot like I’m outrunning fate, kill the engine, and throw the door open in the same breath.
The moment I step inside, I’m hit with the pungent smell of disinfectant and relentless glare of fluorescent lights.
The ER buzzes around me, phones shrilling, machines whining, voices slicing through the air with clipped efficiency.
I scan the chaos, desperate for something familiar. Hollis. Mike. A firefighter’s uniform. But all I find are strangers—faces drawn tight with worry, footsteps too quick, too practiced.
Down the corridor, a sign snags my gaze: Room 209.
I bolt toward it, heart lodged in my throat, but just as I reach the door, a nurse steps into my path, bringing me up short.
“Can I help you?” she asks, her tone calm, controlled.
Words tangle in my throat before I manage to force them out. “I’m here to see someone. I was told he’s in room 209.”
Her expression shifts, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Are you family?”
Shit…I did not think this through.
“Uh, yeah. I’m…his wife.”
A flash of surprise crosses her face before she gives me a quick once-over, taking in the pajamas, tangled hair, and slippers that barely stayed on through the parking lot sprint.
Clearly, I’m not the wife she pictured for a man like Linc. I’d be more annoyed if I wasn’t sick with worry.
“All right.” She finally nods. “Not too long though. He needs his rest. We’ll be transferring him to another room as soon as we can.”
I catch her arm before she can turn.
“Is he—” My voice breaks before I clear it. “Is he okay?”
Her eyes soften as she nods. “He will be.”
Relief crashes into me like a wave, hot behind my eyes. “Thank you.”
She steps aside, allowing me to enter.
The room is dim and hushed, the steady beep of a monitor threading through the air like a menace.
A curtain shields the bed, a pale barrier between me and the man who’s been under my skin since childhood.
I inch forward on trembling legs, each step carrying the weight of every word I never said.
My hand lifts, ready to pull the curtain back, but stops.
Instead, I rest my palm against the cool fabric, eyes falling shut as the moment catches up to me.
“It’s me.” The words barely make it past my lips, a whisper threading through the sterile quiet. “I came as soon as I heard.”
The room hums with low beeps of machines and faint rush of oxygen, each sound a cruel reminder of where I am.
“There’s so much I need to tell you. So much I should’ve said before.” My fingers clutch the curtain, fabric biting into my skin. “I don’t know how much time we have, so, please…just let me get this out.”
No movement. No sound. Only silent permission to go on.
“What you said yesterday…you were right. I was scared, but not for the reasons you think.”
A breath catches in my throat, tight and shallow.
“We circled this thing for so long, Linc—pushing, pulling, pretending it wasn’t real. And now that we’ve stopped fighting it…” My voice trembles, thinning to a whisper. “It’s more than I ever imagined. More than I ever thought I could feel for anyone.”
Tears slip free, first one, then another—each one a warm reminder of everything I’ve held back.
“But that doesn’t scare me. Loving you doesn’t scare me, because the truth is, I always have. Even when you were that insufferable little punk pelting me with slime like it was your life’s mission.”
A shaky laugh slips free, fragile as glass, before grief swallows it whole.
“It’s not the love that scares me. It’s losing it that terrifies me.”
The sob builds fast, sharp in my chest, but I push through it.
“Still, I’d rather risk the fall—every broken piece of it—than pretending I never felt it at all.”
It isn’t just a confession. It’s a promise, carved out of years of silence and stubborn pride.
“I want that key, Linc. I really, really want that key.”
The words fade into the hum of machines, leaving only the sound of my tears and the fragile echo of everything I’ve laid bare.
Then…
“Guess it’s a good thing I had one made for you.”
The voice lands behind me, gruff and familiar, striking through the quiet like a match in the dark.
I spin around, heart slamming into my throat.
Linc stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame like he didn’t just tear the ground out from under me. A strip of gauze sits above his brow, a split along his lip, and that crooked, impossible smirk curves on the good side of his mouth like it never left.