I wanted to tell her all of it. That every cup of coffee she left on the counter,every joke she told, every small kindness had stitched me back together piece by piece. That she'd been my safest place, my home.
I wished for more time—God, even a minute would have been enough. One more hour to hear her voice. One more breath to press my forehead to hers and whisper everything I'd held back. One more heartbeat to tell her without fear.
But even in that moment, as my chest ached and my hands trembled in hers, I knew: the few stolen months with her had been worth every second. Worth every risk. Worth every scar, every secret, every sleepless night that led me here.
If I had to go, there was no better way than this, no better ending than in her arms. Her heartbeat was thunder against my ribs, fierce and terrified, trying to keep me tethered. Her tears sliddown my face like rain. Her voice was a prayer and a command all at once:don't you dare leave me.
If this was the last thing I would ever know, let it beher.Let it bethis.Her arms around me, her tears falling onto my face, her heartbeat a frantic drum against my own.
"Please... be happy." The words tore out of me in a rasp, more breath than sound.
My vision tunneled, but I held onto her face, trembling, fierce, beautiful , and thought,If I can't stay, then let her life still be wide and bright. Please God, Let her laugh again. Let her love again. Let her live.
Her fingers pressed against my cheek, shaking. Her tears fell like saltwater onto my lips, and as everything inside me dimmed, I whispered again, softer but sure,I love you, Dec.
Let that be the last thing she hears from me.
Chapter 30: Forged in Fire
Waiting in hospital waiting rooms is a nightmare, a slow, torturous purgatory where every second stretches into endless dread. The sterile smell of antiseptic mingled with the faint metallic tang of blood, making my stomach churn. My mind raced uncontrollably, spinning through every possible worst-case scenario, each one more terrifying than the last. I sank into the hard chair, pressing my head back and closing my eyes, trying desperately to shut out the world, to stop thepanic clawing its way up my throat. But the memories of what happened surged forward like a relentless tide, unbidden and merciless.
The sight of blood gushing, crimson and unstoppable, would haunt me forever, a searing image burned into the corners of my mind. His voice, soft and trembling, still echoed in my ears, whispering his love for me in a way that felt like a goodbye, and I almost crumpled under the weight of it. My chest ached, my hands shook, and yet, through some sheer force of will, I found the strength to reach for my phone, to call Billy and Jan because someone else had already dialed 911.
Everything had happened so fast, a blur of chaos and sirens that left my mind spinning. He had been taken away immediately, his body disappearing into the back of the ambulance before I could even process what was happening. I ran after it, my legs heavy and trembling, and climbed in beside him as paramedics worked with quiet urgency. My hands were clasped together in silent prayer, nails digging into my palms, as my heart hammered violently in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears like a drum of panic.
Regret gnawed at me relentlessly. I hadn't said it back. I hadn't told him I loved him when I had the chance. The thought that those words might now never reach him twisted in my stomach, sharp and bitter. I had assumed we would have more time, always more time. I shook my head, almost instinctively, trying to will myself away from despair.We do. We do.I repeated it in my mind like a mantra, clinging to it as if it were a lifeline.
I am here still waiting. I closed my eyes, pressing my trembling hands to my face as if I could hold myself together. I kept praying in my head. "Please, God... please, just let him live. Letus be reunited. Let him smile again, laugh again and feel peace, even for a moment." My chest is aching so badly I can barely breathe. "Take anything else from me, everything if you must—my sleep, my joy, my strength but not him. Not my Ryder. Please, I'm begging you... leave me my Ryder. Leave me the one heart that makes this life bearable."
Suddenly, through the blur of fear and pain, I felt a familiar warmth, Billy's hand closing over mine, grounding me. His presence was a tether in the chaos, steady and unshakable.
"Keep having faith, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low but firm, anchoring me. "It'll be okay. The doctor said he's stable."
I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against his shoulder, trying to steady my breath as panic clawed at my chest. "I... I don't know how to do this, Billy," I whispered, voice trembling. "I feel like I'm drowning."
He didn't rush to fill the silence. Instead, his hand found mine, warm and steady, his thumb tracing slow circles against my skin. "I know," he murmured. "It's terrifying. But you're not alone. I'm right here."
I nodded, unable to speak, letting the quiet settle around us like fragile glass. Then, after a long pause, he said, almost to himself, "You know... if Ryder were a gemstone, he'd be a diamond."
I opened one eye, glancing at him. "A diamond?"
Billy smiled faintly, a mixture of warmth and awe in his gaze. "Yes. Think about it. Diamonds are forged under pressure, deep in the earth. They endure intense heat and unimaginable pressure, and yet they emerge stronger, unbreakable. That'sRyder. He's resilient. He fights. Even now, he's still holding on, still shining despite everything that's happened."
I felt a flicker of hope in the storm of fear. "So... you really think he'll make it?"
"I don't just think it," Billy said, his voice steady, certain. "I know it. Ryder's survived before, and he's not done yet. Just like a diamond, he's meant to endure, to come through the fire and sparkle brighter on the other side. You just have to keep believing, as hard as it is. He's counting on you, even if he can't say it right now."
I took a shaky breath, letting his words seep into me, clinging to the image of him as something strong, something precious, something worth holding onto, and for the first time in hours, a sliver of calm threaded through the panic, a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, he would fight his way back to me.
The doctor had said he was lucky, the wound had missed major arteries and vital organs but he had lost a significant amount of blood. His blood pressure had dropped dangerously low before the transfusions, and the trauma team had fought for every ounce of stability. I could hear fragments of medical jargon echoing in my mind: "hemorrhagic shock," "hypovolemic resuscitation," "massive transfusion protocol"—words that made my chest tighten even more.
They wouldn't let me see him yet. The surgery had been long and complicated, and he was now in the intensive care unit, sedated and hooked up to a maze of machines. I was forced to sit in the waiting room, my hands twisting in my lap, my stomach in knots, waiting for someone, anyone, to emerge and tell me he had made it through.
Every second felt like an hour, every movement in the hallway sending my heart racing. I tried to focus on my breathing, on the steady grip of Billy's hand, on the hope that the doctors were doing everything they could. But it was impossible to quiet the relentless tide of fear that gnawed at me from the inside, a constant reminder that for now, I was powerless.
"Here's Jan," Billy said gently.
I opened my eyes, and she was there in a rush, always composed, always untouchable but I knew better. She placed a steady hand on my shoulder.
