43. 43
Hurricane – Luke Combs
T he first thing I see when my eyes crack open isn’t a ceiling, or a blinding light, or even some angelic vision.
It’s Harrison’s mug.
Way too close. Way too serious.
He jolts upright when his eyes find mine, like I’ve just shot electricity through him. “Holy shit! Y-you’re awake.” His voice cracks, the relief in it doing something weird to my chest.
“Jesus,” I croak, my voice like sandpaper. “You’re not the face I was hoping to wake up to.”
He huffs out a breath—half a laugh, half relief. “Well, nice to see you too, asshole. How ya feeling?” he asks, his eyes scanning me like he’s ready to call a nurse if I so much as blink wrong.
I smirk, even though my lips feel heavy. “Peachy. Just went for a little joyride and thought I’d drop in here for the food.”
“Good to see you’re starting to become your usual cunty self,” he counters, shaking his head.
I huff out a laugh, but it sends a spear of pain straight through my ribs, stealing the air from my lungs. I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth.
“Shit. Take it easy,” Harrison warns, his voice low but firm.
I force my eyes open again, and that’s when I notice the figure beside me. A mess of auburn hair spills over the arm of the chair, catching the light through the blinds.
Zoe.
My Zoe.
Curled into a ball in a chair far too small for her, looking both completely out of place and exactly where she’s meant to be. My body goes still. The impulse to sit up, to lean forward and reach for her, is instant. “What—”
“Shhh.” Harrison cuts me off, catching my stare. “Don’t wake her. She only just crashed.”
My brows pull tight, and my throat’s so dry it aches. “When… when did she get here?”
“Monday morning,” he says.
Monday? Fuck. “What day is it now?”
“Tuesday.”
Almost two days. I’ve been out for almost two days, and she’s been here—like this—the whole damn time. She looks exhausted, cheeks a little sunken, dark circles under her eyes. It hits me square in the chest, heavier than the pain from my ribs.
“Do you remember what happened?” Harrison asks quietly. “Do you know where you are?”
I drag my eyes from her to him and manage a smirk. “I’m guessing Wattle Creek Hospital, no?”
He nods but doesn’t smile. “You took a hard hit, Mikey. Two fractured ribs. Blunt trauma to your chest and head. Minor internal bleeding. They had you on ventilation support in the ICU. Pain management is ongoing. But you’re improving. They’ve started weaning you off the anaesthesia.”
My lips twitch, even though inside, I’m a mess. “So… nothing major then?”
Harrison just shakes his head, but I catch the faintest huff of a laugh before it fades. I let out a slow breath, the ache everywhere reminding me I’m still alive, still here.
His voice drops now. “Doc said it was a fucking miracle you survived. Said they were surprised you weren’t dead from the collision.
” One tear slips down his cheek before he huffs a laugh, and I give him the same.
But I know exactly what my miracle was—and she’s sitting right here, asleep, breathing.
“I’ll leave you with her for a bit,” he says, stepping in to run a careful hand over my hair before pressing a kiss to the side of my head. “I love you, Michael. Don’t ever fucking scare me like that again. You don’t get to leave this world without me, you hear me?”
My lip trembles, but I nod. “Love you too, brother.”
He lingers, looking over at Zoe. “Since she’s been here, she’s practically told off every nurse. She even threatened one for not doing something quick enough. She hasn’t left your side.”
It doesn’t surprise me, not for a second. But it cuts right into that familiar ache in my chest.
Love.
And when she wakes, I hope to hell she feels the same way. Because it’s the first thing I’m telling her.
The first thing I focused on after Harrison left was her.
Head tipped against the arm of the chair, auburn hair spilling over the side like a curtain, knees tucked up in a ball. She was still out cold, breathing slow, lips parted slightly like she’d been holding on for too long and finally let herself crash.
God, I don’t know how long I’ve been watching her like this. Does it make me a creep? Probably. Do I give a shit? Not even a little.
I don’t even know what time it is, but just as I’m about to fight sleep again, she blinks awake. It’s the softest flutter of her lashes before her gaze lands on mine—and she startles like she’s just seen a ghost.
She half-rises from the chair, fumbling for her balance. “Michael—”
“I’m fine,” I rasp. “Nurse just came by.”
Her eyes instantly fill, tears spilling before she can even speak. She sinks back into the chair, staring at me like she’s unsure if she should touch me or keep her distance.
“Hi,” I say.
Her lips tremble. “Hi.”
She wipes at her eyes, inhaling shakily. “Oh, God. I have so much to explain. I owe you the biggest apology, Michael.”
I frown. “Sorry, about what? Wait… who are you again?”
Her mouth drops open, eyes going wide. And fuck, all I want is to kiss the shock right off those perfect lip. “I’m kidding, Freckles.”
Her jaw drops even further before she lets out a disbelieving huff. “You jerk.”
Against my better judgement—and the sharp ache slicing through my chest—I reach for her, needing to feel her close, to smell her, breathe her in.
“No, wait,” she says, trying to pull back. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Shhh, baby.” I drag her carefully toward me anyway. “Nothing can hurt me now.”
She caves, burying her face into me, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, and I smooth my palm down her hair, the scent of her shampoo hitting me so hard, my chest aches worse than my damn ribs. When she finally lifts her head, I notice the candles flickering on the side table.
How I never noticed them before is beyond me, but now, it’s almost as if they burn brighter, throwing gold light across her face.
There are multiple candles, all different sizes, lined along each side table beside me. I glance around and spot more—by the door, on the sink bench, even one perched on a stack of folded towels in the corner. She’s turned this sterile, whitewashed room into something warm.
Something alive.
“They couldn’t bring in a lamp,” she says softly. “ Completely useless. So I had to improvise.”
My eyes sting. “You bought all these candles?”
She nods, glancing around at the soft glow. “Had to go to three different stores, actually. Nearly gave the nurses a heart attack when I tried to light real candles, so then I had to hunt down LED ones.” A small, almost sheepish laugh slips out.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, needing to see all of her.
“It gets so dark in here at night,” she says, quieter now. “I just wanted you to have… something. I hope it’s okay.”
“It’s more than okay, my love.” My hand slides to cup her chin, thumb resting against the curve of her jaw. “But I don’t need the light anymore.”
Her brow furrows. “Why not?”
“Because you’re all the light I need.”
A breathy laugh slips from her, but it dissolves into fresh tears. Then her mouth is on mine. Soft, desperate, so fucking passionate it stirs that deep, familiar ache in my chest, making me feel all giddy and shit inside. And fuck, I melt into her touch.
Because this—her—is heaven.
“I love you,” I mumble against her lips.
She stills, pulling back just enough to search my face. “You what?”
“I love you, Zoe…” I stop, scowling. “Wait. There’s no way I’m about to say fuckwit’s last name.”
“You won’t have to,” she says, a tear slipping free, but her voice steady. “Because my name is officially Zoe Parkinson again.”
“Thank fuck.” I clear my throat, fighting through the pain. “I fucking love you, Zoe Parkinson. Fuck…” I exhale, a broken laugh slipping out. “I think I’ve loved you since the day you came into my shop. That white sundress, hair blowing in the wind, hot fucking mess and all.”
She rolls her eyes, lips quivering. “I doubt that.”
“Yeah? You can doubt it all you want, baby. But you wanna know what I think?”
Her smirk tilts. “What?”
“My love for you is the one thing, in my fucked-up twenty-seven years of life, that I will never, ever doubt.” I brush away the single tear tracking down her cheek.
“You walked into my life, all fire and attitude, and for the first time, I didn’t feel…
empty. Didn’t feel like I was just passing time.
You made me want more. You make me want everything. ”
She lets out a choked laugh. “You’re so cheesy, it’s infuriating.”
I grin, and she kisses me again. My hands disappear into that wild mane of hers, pulling her closer, deeper, until I’m certain we’re breathing the same air. When she finally pulls back, her arm brushes across the blanket—and my now very obvious hard-on underneath it. She raises a brow.
“Really? Is that what I think it is?”
“Oh, you mean my third leg? Then yeah, you’re correct.”
Her lips twitch. “Out of all places and times…”
“He knows what he wants,” I say, my grin slow and wicked. “And he’s missed the fuck out of you. We both have, Freckles.”
Her expression softens. “Michael… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—”
“But I’m here,” I cut her words off softly. “I’m alive. And you’re with me. That’s all that matters.”
Her voice trembles as she says, “Leaving you without so much as a word was… easily the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
Not leaving Liam. Not going through the divorce case.
That. Walking away from you.” She swallows hard, her eyes glossing.
“It’s not easy for me to say all this, and it terrifies the fuck out of me—opening myself up to someone again. ”
This time, it’s my eyes that glass over, but no tears fall. This woman just makes me so fucking emotional, I don’t give a fuck if it looks like weakness. If it’s her? I’ll wear it proudly.
I place both palms on either side of her face.
“Don’t be scared to start all over again.
You might just end up loving the story you write next.
I get that it’s hard, baby, but nothing worth having ever comes easy.
The best things in life are the ones you don’t plan for…
the ones you never see coming. And it’s more than okay to fight for someone who loves you back—someone who’s here to stay. ”
Her lips press into a wobbly smile. “You’ve changed me, Michael.
You made me feel again. You made me want again.
I think I started to feel something for you that day you brought me Sprinkles, when you stood there on my doorstep with that silly little cat like it was no big deal.
And then it was the rides, the way you never pushed when I pulled away, the way you made space for me without asking for anything in return.
You’ve been patient when I didn’t deserve it, and you’ve made me laugh when I didn’t think I could. ”
She swallows hard. “Sprinkles has grown on me so much, I don’t know what I’d do without that little menace. And…” She exhales shakily, almost like it’s the most dangerous truth she’s ever said out loud. “Fuck, I think I’m in love with you too.”
“You think?” I tease, arching a brow. “I’m gonna need you to be damn sure, Freckles.”
Her smile widens. “I am. I do.”
“Need to hear you say those three little words, Freckles.”
“I love you , Michael Price.”
She stares at me, eyes shining, and I make myself a silent promise—no more tears. Not for me. Not for anyone. There will never be a day she has to ask for reassurance. I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving she’s loved. Wanted. Needed.
And that’s all I need to hear. I pull her back into me, my hands sliding down her spine until they’re gripping her ass, squeezing her tighter, like I can anchor her here forever.
Her mouth moves against mine, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that strips everything else away—no hospital, no pain, no past. Just her.
Because she’s home. And she’s back in my arms.
I thank God for every fucked-up thing that dragged me here. Every wrong turn, every fight, every crash that nearly broke me in half. Because it all brought me to her. And if I had to, I’d take them all again. Every single one. Just for this. Just for her.
Because she’s worth it.
She’s worth all of it.
The End.