Page 169 of Sunrise & Serenity

“You know what none of you have asked me?” Her voice is thin, but certain. “What I want.”

“Sage—” Richard cuts in.

“My head hurts, and right now I want you to leave.”

Graham takes a step toward her, but Sage holds up her hand. “Don’t make me call a nurse to kick you out.”

Victoria presses her lips together before heading for the door. “We’ll get something to eat. We can talk later.”

As they file out, I consider not leaving. But as much as I want to demand to stay, to make sure she’s all right, to look after her, I can’t be that guy, once again overriding her decisions.

I’ve taken one reluctant step when she speaks. “Please stay, Holden.”

She winces, adjusting again, and my protective instincts take over. I move toward the bed before I can stop myself. “Do you need anything?”

Her eyes lift to mine, the exhaustion there nearly gutting me.

“I’m okay.”

She isn’t. Not even close. But she says it the same way I always do. The way she did when she was all tangled up about choosing the residency. Something painful twists through me at the realization.

Her hair is tangled, with dried blood matted in it near the bandage.

The sight makes nausea roll hard through my stomach.

I’ve seen blood in dark hair before.

My fingers curl automatically into fists. God, I should’ve been here. If I hadn’t left—if I’d stayed—if I’d made better damn decisions⁠—

“How are you feeling?” I ask, cutting off my spiraling thoughts.

She exhales carefully. “Like I lost another fight with a ditch.”

Relief loosens my muscles so abruptly that I almost laugh.

I pull a chair close and sit. I want to touch her, to take her hand, feel the warmth of her skin against mine, but I don’t. I haven’t earned the right.

She watches me silently, her eyes guarded.

A breath gusts out of me. “I might’ve told the nurse I was your fiancé.”

She blinks slowly. “What?”

“It was the only way they’d let me in. I’m sorry.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she says with a sigh, though she doesn’t sound angry. Her fingers smooth over the sheet covering her. “I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you were back at the rodeo.”

I drag a hand through my hair. “I was wrong.”

Her gaze doesn’t leave mine. “About what?”

“Everything.”

A corner of her mouth twitches. “That’s a broad statement.”

“For leaving,” I rasp.

The glimmer of humor disappears instantly.