“Faster, Caleb.”
“Yes, your highness. Christ, how much do you weigh? Mom’s been feeding you too well.”
The wheelchair’s wheels squeaked on the linoleum. They were twenty feet away.
She pressed the button. The elevator dinged.
No, wait?—
“Ivy!” Ryder’s voice came out hoarse. “Wait!”
She didn’t hear him. The elevator doors opened.
Ryder gripped the wheelchair arms and stuck out his leg, forcing Caleb to halt. He pushed himself upright, IV bag swinging above him. His legs shook, and his shoulder felt like it was being torn apart all over again.
But he stood.
“IVY!”
She turned around, hand still on the elevator button, frozen. Her eyes were red. Had she been crying?
“Ryder?” Her voice was small. Uncertain. “What are you?—”
“Don’t get on that plane.”
The words came out raw. Desperate. Nothing like what he’d planned to say—if he’d had a plan at all, which he hadn’t, because he was making this up as he went and his shoulder was on fire and he couldn’t think of anything except the fact that she was about to walk into that elevator and out of his life.
“What?” She walked toward him.
“Tomorrow. Don’t get on the plane.” He took a step toward her on faltering legs. Caleb caught his elbow briefly then let go. “Please.”
She stared at him. “Ryder, I—” Her voice trembled. “I thought you wanted me to go.”
“No.” Too sharp. The sound bounced down the corridor. “No, that’s the last thing I want.”
“But you said?—”
“I know.” He swallowed hard, fighting through the gray creeping at the edges of his vision. “I said the wrong thing because I was scared. Terrified I wasn’t enough. That I couldn’t give you the life you deserve. You’re this brilliant, capable woman who could go anywhere, do anything, and I’m…” He gestured with his free hand, half-laughing at himself. “This. A busted medic with a kid. Not exactly fairy-tale material.” He took a breath. “And you’reyou?—”
His throat closed up. The words were right there, but they wouldn’t come out.
She closed the gap between them, tears gleaming tracks on her cheeks.
He sucked in a shuddering breath. “I love you, Ivy. I know it’s insane—we’ve known each other for barely two weeks, and half of that was spent trying not to die. But I do. I love you. And Ellie’s halfway in love with you too.”
He shifted a step closer, the IV line swaying. “I can’t stand here and watch you disappear again. So here I am—one-armed, stitched together, mooning half the hospital—asking you, begging you, please don’t go.” The silence stretched long enough to hurt. “Say something. Please.”
Her hand came up to her mouth. A sob escaped, tremulous and disbelieving. “You idiot.” She shook her head. “You absolute idiot.”
“So… that’s a yes?”
She stepped in and threw her arms around his neck. He caught her with his good arm, held on like she was the only thing keeping him upright.
“I love you too,” she whispered against his skin. “I didn’t want to leave. I thoughtyouwanted me to. I thought I’d be inthe way. You and Ellie, you’re already a family, and I didn’t want to?—”
He pulled back enough to see her face. “You’re not in the way. You’re the missing piece we didn’t know we needed. You, me, and Ellie—that’s all I want.”
She laughed, cupping his jaw with her hand. “You came after me in a hospital gown.”
