Chapter 54 Soon You’ll Get Better
Soon You’ll Get Better
Dylan
She didn’t even flinch when he begged her to slow down. Just whispered, “I’ve got you,” and kept going.
Now, as she pulled into the parking lot of Bellamy Memorial in under five hours, her hands finally began to shake. She threw the car into park, turned to look at him with glassy eyes, and said, “Go. I’ll catch up.”
He didn’t wait for more. Didn’t grab his bag. Didn’t fix his hair or check his phone. He just ran.
The ER doors slid open with a hiss, the scent of antiseptic hitting him like a punch—cold, clinical, and all too familiar.
He hated hospitals.
Especially this one.
He shut his thoughts down fast. He couldn’t let the ghosts creep in. This wasn’t about the past.
This was about his dad. Now.
“Dylan McKenzie,” he told the nurse behind the desk. “My dad. Talmadge McKenzie. He was brought in—”
She nodded. “Family’s in Room 13. Straight back, last on the left.”
He didn’t thank her. Didn’t breathe. Just walked—fast, then faster—until he reached the door. It was cracked open, the fluorescent light bleeding out into the hall.
He pushed it open and froze.
His mom was sitting in one of the plastic chairs, her face pale, but composed and she was holding Talmadge’s hand.
His father looked smaller in the hospital bed—oxygen hooked to his nose, monitors blinking quietly.
Daisy sat in the corner, her knees pulled to her chest, tear tracks staining her cheeks.
The second she saw him, she was up.
“Dyllie.” She flung her arms around his neck, sobbing again.
He held her tightly, his throat closing. “What happened?”
“They think it was a blockage,” she whispered, wiping her face. “He collapsed outside the bank. A guy in the parking lot did CPR until EMS got there.”
His mom stood then. “They’ve stabilized him,” she said, her voice calm but raw. “But he’s not out of the woods yet.”
Dylan crossed to the bed and took his father’s free hand. “Hey, Dad,” he said softly, voice cracking. “You picked a hell of a way to get everyone back in town.”
His phone buzzed softly in his pocket.
He almost didn’t check it—couldn’t bear the thought of more updates or condolences or anyone trying to make this feel normal. But when he saw her name, his heart squeezed.
Ali:
Hey baby, they won’t let me in because I’m not family. I’ll be in the waiting room when you need me.
He stared at the screen for a long second, thumb hovering.
Not family.
God, that stung more than it should have. Not because it wasn’t technically true—but because the idea of her out there, alone, just a few doors away, felt wrong. It felt backwards.
She’d just driven four and a half hours with laser focus, a full tank of adrenaline, and her heart in her throat. For him. For all of them.
And now she was being kept behind glass like she didn’t belong.
He looked over at Daisy, and then to his mom, still clutching his dad’s hand.
Then he stepped into the hallway and typed out a reply.
You’re my family. I’ll be there in 2 minutes.
He hit send and started walking—fast. She was curled into the corner of the waiting room, hoodie pulled over her knees, hair twisted up in a messy clip. As soon as she saw him, she stood—eyes wide, worried, but steady.
He didn’t say a word. Just crossed the room and pulled her into his chest, holding her tight enough to stop the shaking in his hands.
“I’m here,” she whispered into his shoulder. “Whatever you need.”
“I need you with me,” he murmured.
And that was it.
He laced their fingers together and led her back through the ER doors. No one stopped them this time.
Carolina looked up as they entered, her expression softening the second she saw Ali.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, stepping forward and wrapping her into a hug. “Thank you for coming.”
Ali hugged her back gently. “Of course.”
Talmadge was still resting, hooked up to monitors, pale but stable. Dylan watched Ali’s face shift, her worry folding deeper. Then his gaze flicked to the chair in the corner—Daisy, half-curled, phone in hand talking to Laila.
She glanced up at the sound of the door. Her eyes landed on Ali, then flicked to their joined hands.
Daisy gave a slight wave. No words. Just the kind of quiet gesture that said: I see you. I’m still figuring it out.
Dylan didn’t push. There’d be time for more later.
For now, he squeezed Ali’s hand and led her to the space beside him—right where she belonged.
The machines hummed softly beside the hospital bed, a rhythmic reminder that time was still ticking—and that his dad was still here. Dylan exhaled slowly, sinking deeper into the stiff hospital chair, hands laced behind his neck as he stared at the worn tile floor.
Talmadge had drifted in and out for most of the afternoon, but now his eyes were open. Not sharp, exactly, but focused. Present.
Dylan leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “I gotta tell you something.”
His dad gave the faintest lift of his brow—permission.
“We were arguing,” Dylan said. “When Daisy kept calling. I was… frustrated. Confused. I almost didn’t answer.” His voice cracked slightly. “I was just standing there like a jackass. She wanted to move to Orlando for me and I threw it in her face because she didn’t ask me to help her.”
Talmadge’s lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t speak yet, but he was listening. Dylan could feel it.
“I love her, I do.” Dylan said. “Ali. And I meant it when I said I want to build a life with her. But she didn’t tell me she was job hunting.
Or that she’d called Kallie. Or that she was thinking about moving there.
I found out after the fact, like it was already decided.
And it caught me so off guard, I didn’t react the way I should’ve. I got defensive.”
His chest ached with the memory—her teary explanation, the shock in her eyes when Daisy’s call finally forced his hand.
Talmadge shifted, slow and careful. “You mad that she made a plan without you, or scared she made one with you in mind?”
Dylan blinked, startled.
His dad gave a tired little shrug. “Sometimes love makes people run forward before they’re ready. Sometimes fear makes people freeze. You two always did both.”
Dylan dropped his gaze, teeth working at the inside of his cheek. “I think she’s scared to believe it’s real. That we’re real.”
“Then prove it,” Talmadge said simply. “You’re good at showing up, son. Just don’t wait until she’s gone again.”
Dylan swallowed hard. “I won’t.”
A beat passed. Then another.
“She’s good for you,” his dad added softly. “Even I can see that. And I’ve been half-dead for three days.”
That pulled a quiet laugh from Dylan, the kind that hit square in the chest.
“Yeah,” he said, smiling faintly. “She is.”
The cafeteria smelled like coffee and bleach—comforting in a weird, institutional way. Dylan scanned the rows of mostly empty tables, eyes locking on the familiar blonde head tucked low over a paper-wrapped lunch.
Ali.
She was alone at a two-top near the window, picking at a spinach wrap like it had personally offended her. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and her water bottle sat beside her phone, screen dark.
Dylan’s chest squeezed.
He walked toward her, slow but steady, the ache of everything from the last few days rising and falling with each step. She didn’t notice him at first—until his shadow crossed the table.
Her eyes lifted, wide with something like surprise.
Before she could speak, he bent and kissed her.
Gently. Fully.
Not rushed or desperate. Just… sure.
Her hand curled around his arm, anchoring herself to him.
When he pulled back, her eyes were glassy.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, crouching beside her now, hands warm on her knee. “For the fight. For not listening better. For not realizing what it took for you to even want to do all of this.”
Her lip trembled. “Dylan—”
“I mean it,” he cut in gently. “You didn’t have to drive through the night or call my friends or keep showing up like you did. But you did. And I’ve never felt more… known. More loved.”
She blinked fast, breath shaky. “I was scared you’d think I was just chasing after you. That I didn’t trust you to choose me.”
He shook his head, gaze locked on hers. “Ali, I chose you ten years ago. And again against that fucking wall . And again when you drove me all the way here. And again every time I open my damn eyes. I don’t need a big announcement or perfect timing. I just need you.”
She gave a soft, watery laugh. “You sure? Because I come with snacks and baggage.”
“Good,” he smiled, thumb brushing her cheek. “I’ll carry the bags if you share the snacks.”
Then, feeling a little embarrassed, he cleared his throat, “And I’m a hypocrite because I made plans to split my time in Georgia and didn’t tell you.” He admitted, cheeks burning, eyes averted.
She laughed. Actually laughed out loud at that. And leaned in again, forehead against his. They stayed like that for a long, quiet moment—his hand on her knee, her fingers laced in the sleeve of his hoodie. Breathing each other in. Holding on.
It wasn’t flashy.
But it was everything.