Chapter Forty-Nine
Riley
When the door opens, I swear my heart forgets what beating is.
I stand there, breathless, taking in the sight of him; Breaker, alive, battered but undeniably breathing.
His face is half-shadowed by the thin hospital curtain and half-lit by the sterile glow of the fluorescents.
He looks like a war story: bruised, cut, bandaged, his wrist bound in white, his ribs cinched tight beneath the gown.
But he is here. Alive, and mine, all mine, his blue eyes sharp, and the force of his presence pulling me across the room.
Me, to him.
I choke on a sob before I even make it to him. “Breaker—” But his name is a broken bottle in my throat, all jagged edges and bleeding relief.
He laughs, the sound catching like sandpaper in his chest, and then his good arm stretches, beckoning me in, as if he can’t wait another second.
My body forgets everything but him, and I close the space between us, crashing down onto the mattress at his side.
His fingers find my waist first, then my back, then the nape of my neck, and suddenly I am wrapped in Breaker, inhaling the sharp electric tang of antiseptic and under that, the warmth of his skin, the familiar oil-and-leather scent that means home.
I burrow my face against his shoulder. I soak the thin blue fabric of his gown with tears I don’t care to hide. He winces but holds me tighter, all caution abandoned.
His voice is low, rough, breaking. “Sparrow, I thought I had lost you.”
I can feel the way his chest tightens, the way his whole body tenses to keep himself from shaking.
We clutch each other as if everything else is imaginary — the walls, the bed, the world outside.
I can still taste the basement on my tongue, still feel the phantom ache in my wrists and the sticky terror on my skin.
But here, with Breaker’s hand holding me, the fear lifts, not vanishing, not entirely, not yet, but retreating to the far corners where it belongs.
He leans back just enough to look at me; his knuckles are split and stained, but his thumb is tender as it grazes my cheekbone.
My face is a mess, I know it: nose running, eyes red-rimmed, hair clumped in wild directions.
He stares at me like I’m the last thing he’ll ever see, and for a second, that’s exactly what I want to be.
“Look at me,” Breaker says, and I am helpless to disobey.
I look. He is more beautiful now than he has ever been: raw, ruined, unbreakable.
He swallows. “I love you.” The words are gravelly, scraped raw, but true. “I love you, Riley. I love you, and I have something I want to ask you.”
There is no air in the room. There is only the sound of my heartbeat and his voice in my ears, rough and unpracticed and so true it makes my insides shake apart.
“I love you,” I say, and it is easier than breathing, easier than swallowing. “I love you, too.”
“I want you to be my ol’ lady.”
My stomach flips, then soars. I laugh, and then I’m crying again, tears sneaking out despite my best efforts. “Yes,” I say at first, but the word is a mouse, so small I barely hear it. I clear my throat and set it free. “Yes. Yes. Breaker, yes, I want that. I want all of it.”
His forehead touches mine, his breath warm against my lips.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’m not letting you go, not ever.”
I laugh, and the sound startles me with its lightness. I press my nose to his cheek, memorizing the contour of his jaw, his stubble rough against my face.
For a while, there is only the rhythm of our breathing and the hum of the machines in the room. We say nothing, because we don’t have to. He holds me as if he’s memorizing the shape of my ribs, like he can count my heartbeats just by touch.
A knock interrupts the hush, a double-tap on the doorframe. I glance up, blinking away the tears, as a nurse slips inside. She’s got a clipboard tucked to her chest, eyes scanning the room with the calm of someone who’s seen every kind of disaster.
“Miss Monroe?” she says, uncertain.
I straighten a little, but Breaker’s arm clamps tighter, holding me close. “Yeah, that’s me.”
She glances at Breaker, raises an eyebrow, and then does the nursely calculus of whether she should ask the man to leave. “I need to speak with you. Alone, if possible.”
Breaker bristles instantly. “No.”
The nurse is unfazed. “Sir, this is private patient information.”
“It’s fine,” I cut in, suddenly needing Breaker here more than I need privacy. “He can stay.” I turn my face up to him, letting the old lady thing settle into my bones, and beam at the nurse. “He’s my… ol’ man.” The words are new, but they feel right, and saying them makes me laugh out loud.
The nurse stops mid-step. “Your… old man? Are you confused? He’s not old at all. Miss, did you hit your head? I can call the doctor. You really should sit down.”
“I feel perfect,” I say. “Just tell me whatever it is.”
The nurse’s mouth twitches, as if she’s never had a patient say that before. “Okay, then,” she says, and scans her clipboard. “We ran a full panel when you were brought in for trauma. There were some unexpected results I need to discuss with you.”
My heart twinges. “What results?”
Breaker sits up straighter, his whole body coiled. “Tell us.”
The nurse glances between us, her voice lowering. “These hospital-grade tests detect things far earlier and far more accurately than store-bought ones. So… Riley…” She lifts her eyes to mine. “You’re pregnant.”
The room stills. Breaker goes motionless beside me.
Pregnant.
The word doesn’t even echo; it just hangs suspended in my chest, lighting every part of me at once with shock, love, and hope. And something deeper than all of that, something that is soul-deep and life-changing.
I look at Breaker.
He looks at me.
There’s a tremor in his expression. It is something raw and something reverent. And then he gently takes my hand, lifting it, kissing it.
“We’re…” he whispers, his voice breaking as his eyes shine. “We’re having a baby?”
I nod, tears spilling again. “Breaker…”
He leans in and kisses me, slow and careful and desperate all at once. Then he reaches down and places his hand on my stomach. My hand covers his, and my world narrows to that touch — our future — our love.
“A fresh start. A new life. A family… for both of us.”
The nurse slips out, but we barely notice.
We dissolve into each other, hands trembling and lips searching, our tears salty and mingled.
I can’t stop smiling, even though my face hurts, and Breaker just keeps looking at me, like he’s stunned by the miracle of me still existing. Then there’s a sharp knock at the door.
The door opens, and the instant I see who stands there, I freeze. My eyes go wide, and Breaker’s breathing stops.