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This room, our bubble, shields us from the frenzied life outside. I'm here, close, fingers twined with his. My thoughts whirl, dancing around the confession lurking in my heart's corner. This space, so clinical, offers a strange solace, a place to finally spill the truth.
"Sage," my voice trembles, barely more than a breath. I drown in the depth of his midnight blue eyes, finding warmth even here. "I've... I've fallen for you. It's more than a fling. I'm not playing the buckle bunny role anymore. So, surprise? Girlfriend application in progress."
His eyes widen, taking a minute. And then, they melt, a smile pulling at his lips. A smile I could’ve died for. "Iris," emotion cracks his voice, "took you long enough."
Our moment, so raw and real, contrasts against the stark, sterile backdrop. It magnifies everything between us. The bond we share grows, deepens. Even here, in a place where hope seems a rare commodity. If it’s the remnants of his anesthesia from the surgery, or the truth, I won’t know now. But I hope with everything that I have it’s what’s truly in his heart.
I mount him on his hospital bed, careful not to pull any of the tubes or wires he has coming from his body. His groan a testament to his toughness.
I squeeze his face in my hands and plant a kiss so filled with passion that our teeth clash in the process.
“Sweetheart, take it easy on me.” He mumbles against my lips.
“Kiss me like your life depends on it.”
He does. He fights through the pain, and wrestles his tongue with mine. Showing me the love and passion I need in this moment. Even as badly bruised and broken as he is, he still shows the affection and devotion I needed. My heart explodes with the fullness.
CHAPTER TEN
The hospital’s cold, clinical vibe becomes our backdrop for love. Funny how such a place — buzzing with fluorescent lights and pinging machines — turns into a place to build a bond.
Sage’s recovery is a wild roller coaster. Some points, he's the cowboy I remember, stubborn as hell and twice as determined. Others? He's a ghost, lost in memories of rodeos past.
"You're staring," he teases, glancing up from his bed, one eyebrow arched.
"Can't help it," I retort with a smirk. "Your bedhead is something to behold."
But beneath our playful exchanges, I witness his raw moments. Those when he wrestles with bending a knee or turning an ankle. The strain's clear in his eyes, a mix of frustration and fatigue.
"What if I never ride again?" he murmurs during one of those darker moments, voice thick with worry.
I squeeze his hand. "Then we'll find new adventures, cowboy."
His laughter's a balm, but it's sometimes chased by a shadow, a reminder of the accident's toll on more than just his body.
The therapy nurse comes to collect him in a wheelchair.
“We need to get your baseline. Set up a plan for your physical therapy going forward.”
The man in the all black scrubs has no issue lifting Sage up from under his arms and setting him into the navy blue vinyl chair. Wheels locked to keep from rolling away.
“You can come along if you like, miss. Sometimes it helps to have that extra bit of encouragement to get through the tests.”
“Is that alright Sage?”
“It’s up to you sweetheart. I ain’t gonna give it no less or no more with you there. You know I’mma give it my all regardless.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The dim light from the hospital hallway spills into Sage's room. I've stood by him, holding his hand, wiping away the sweat and tears through the worst of the pain. Yet something's shifted. A heavy weight, a brewing storm.
It's the dead of night — when the world falls silent — his doubts roar the loudest. Is he pondering if I'm here out of love or pity? I catch those fleeting glances, the way he examines my face for signs. He's probably wondering if I see a scarred, changed Sage rather than the cowboy who could tame any wild stallion with a mere look.
Doubt's a sneaky thing, isn't it? Here he is, the love of my life, surrounded by constant reminders of his strength, like my unwavering presence or the way my laughter tries to drown out the sterile ambiance. Yet the seeds of uncertainty grow, fueled by vulnerability, shadowing our love.
His changed demeanor doesn't escape me. Those rare smiles, the distant gazes — it's like he's in another world, a place where I can't reach him. I sense the emotional barriers he's throwing up brick by brick. Oh, honey, walls won't keep me out.
I need to tackle this. Head on. Our love's on the line and there’s no way I’m letting it fray. It’s time to make him see, to remind him of our unbreakable bond, not born from pity, but from the kind of love you read about in epic tales. Let’s dance on this rocky path, Sage.
