Page 177 of Sunrise & Serenity

A lump forms in my throat. “I kept thinking maybe I imagined everything between us.”

Pain flashes across his face. “You didn’t.”

I look down at the blanket twisted loosely in my hands. “You left.”

Holden goes still. “I know.”

“And part of me keeps thinking…” I swallow carefully. “What happens the next time things get hard?”

He flinches, and for one awful second, I wish I could take the words back. But I have to say it, or there’s no way this could work.

“I don’t know how to trust that you won’t leave again,” I whisper.

He doesn’t rush to answer. Eventually, he nods. “I get that.”

I thought he’d argue, convince me I’m wrong to worry about it.

Instead, he steps up to the side of the bed. “I spent a long time convincing myself that leaving first hurt less,” he says quietly. “And somewhere along the line, I stopped noticing how much I was hurting the people around me.”

The honesty in his voice cuts straight through me. Now that I know more about what happened with his mother, everything makes painful sense. But understanding him doesn’t magically erase what happened.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says.

“I know.” That’s what makes this whole thing so awful.

He exhales, then lowers himself into the chair beside my bed. Closer this time. Still not touching, but near. “So, Director of photography.”

I bite my bottom lip. “I may have improvised the title.”

His laugh comes out rough. “It fits.”

“I didn’t stay for you.” The words tumble out in a rush.

He searches my face, and I’m worried I hurt him. But he just nods slowly. “I know.”

“I stayed because I love it here,” I admit. “The ranch. The work. Your family.” My voice wavers. “I love who I am here.”

He drags a hand across his jaw, something glittering in his eyes. Maybe relief. Or pride. Maybe both. Like hearing that matters more than if I’d said I stayed for him. Maybe it does. He’s already proven he doesn’t want me sacrificing my dreams for him.

A nurse steps into the room carrying a small cup of medication. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Holden stands and backs up to give her space.

“If your symptoms keep improving, there’s a good chance you’ll be discharged tomorrow,” she tells me as she works. “But once you’re home, you shouldn’t be alone. Do you have someone who can stay with you for a couple of days?”

I blink, considering. I can’t stay at my cabin alone. I’m still too raw to ask Holden to stay with me.

He must see the thought cross my face because he dips his head. But when his eyes meet mine again, there’s only understanding in them.

“I might stay with Mia for a few days,” I admit.

“Okay.”

My answer doesn’t surprise him, which somehow hurts and reassures me at the same time.

When the nurse is gone, he returns to his chair.

I study him beside me. Exhausted. Guarded. Trying so hard to stay steady. And beneath all the hurt sitting between us, hope flickers quietly to life.