Chapter 19
T he hospital waiting room was too sterile, too still. The buzz of overhead lights hummed in Chloe’s ears, filling the silence she’d been trying to drown out with bad coffee and clenched fists.
She sat on the edge of a cracked vinyl chair, elbows on her knees, palms pressed together. Across from her, Fedora sat wrapped in a gray blanket the nurse had given her, her hands folded neatly in her lap like she was holding herself together one finger at a time.
They hadn’t spoken much on the ride in.
They hadn’t needed to.
Now, in the quiet, Chloe finally exhaled. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
Fedora gave a small, brittle nod. “As okay as someone who was tied up in a shack by a serial killer can be.”
Chloe huffed a soft breath through her nose. “Fair.”
“I didn’t think… I mean, when I saw Dewey at the gas station, I didn’t think he was going to hurt me.
He was so kind…so…calm. He leaned against my car while I was filling up my tank and told me that one of my tires looked low.
Told me he’d be happy to check it for me.
Next thing I knew, he was stuffing me in the back of his car.
But even then, he was gentle…sort of. He spoke in an even tone.
Like everything was just some tragic story he needed to tell. ”
Chloe nodded slowly. “That’s exactly what it was for him. A story. One he thought he could control.”
“He said I reminded him of someone.” Fedora looked up. “I guess now I know who.”
Chloe met her gaze and saw pieces of herself staring back—different angles of the same face. “I don’t know what to say to that. I didn’t even know about him until earlier today. My parents kept that from me.”
Fedora gave a faint smile. “The man I always believed was my dad died when I was only five. I barely remember him, but he was a good man. I don’t understand why my mom lied to me.”
“I don’t have an answer for that either,” Chloe said softly. They sat in silence for a beat longer before Chloe cleared her throat. “Hayes saved your life tonight.”
Fedora’s lips trembled. “He got shot because of me.”
“He got shot because he doesn’t let people he loves get hurt.”
Fedora’s brows lifted slightly. “He loves you.”
Chloe didn’t answer right away. The word had hovered too close to her skin lately, aching to be acknowledged. “Yeah. He does. And I—I love him, too.” Her voice broke, just a little. “He’s the reason I didn’t fall apart these last few weeks.”
Fedora swallowed. “He was good to my mom, back when they were together. I was a teenager. Too young to get it, but I saw the way he looked at her. Like he wanted to be that man—the one who could stay. But he couldn’t. Not then.”
Chloe felt something tighten in her chest. “He’s different now.”
“He is. I’ve gotten to know him again over the last few years. He’s more settled. More grounded. That might have started before you, but you bring something else out in him. You’re good for him.”
“He’s good for me, too.” Chloe turned just as Betsy stepped through the waiting room doors. She looked drawn, her makeup smudged, but she moved with determination as she crossed the room. Fedora stood, and Betsy wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her close like she might disappear.
“I came as soon as I could,” Betsy whispered, stroking Fedora’s hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“I’m okay, Mom.” Fedora clung to her. “Really. Just…tired.”
Betsy’s eyes met Chloe’s over her daughter’s shoulder. There was no animosity. Just relief. And maybe a quiet understanding.
“Thank you,” Betsy said.
Chloe nodded. “I didn’t do it alone.”
“No, but you didn’t walk away, either.”
The doors at the far end of the waiting room hissed open, and all three women turned.
A doctor stepped in, his scrubs stained, but his expression calm.
“You here for Hayes Bennett?” he asked.
Chloe stood so fast her chair scraped loudly behind her.
“He’s stable,” the doctor said. “The bullet passed through clean, missed major organs. He’s lucky—if it had gone even a centimeter to the left…” He shook his head. “But he’s strong. He’s in recovery now. You can see him in a little while.”
Chloe felt her knees weaken, but she stayed upright. “Thank you.”
The doctor nodded once and disappeared back through the doors.
Behind her, Fletcher, Keaton, and Dawson stood in the hallway, giving her space—but keeping close.
Chloe sat back down, letting out a breath that felt like it had been lodged in her lungs for hours. She rubbed a hand over her face, then looked up at Fedora and Betsy. “When it’s time, you can go see him first,” Chloe said quietly.
“Oh, no.” Betsy shook her head. “You should?—”
“I insist.” Chloe smiled at Fedora. “He’s going to want to see Fedora. To know she’s really okay. That will be important to him.”
Fedora sank into the chair beside her, reaching out to squeeze Chloe’s hand. “But you’re the woman who stole his heart. He needs you, too.”
“He needs us both,” Chloe said softly. “I’m not going anywhere, and you both need to get back to St. Augustine. This isn’t negotiable.”
“Is this what having an older sister is like?” Fedora teased. “Because if it is, I’m gonna like it.”
Chloe stole a glance toward Betsy, who just smiled and nodded.
A couple of hours ago, Chloe had thought her entire identity had changed, but in reality, it hadn’t. All that had changed was that she had more people in her world to love.
The steady beep of the heart monitor was almost hypnotic. Hayes lay back against the pillows, the pain in his side dulled by meds but still persistent enough to remind him he was alive.
And grateful to be.
The door creaked open.
For a second, he thought it would be Chloe. But it wasn’t.
Fedora stepped in, her movements tentative. She wore a hospital blanket draped over her shoulders like armor.
“You can come in,” Hayes said. “I don’t bite.”
“You used to say that when I was a kid.” She gave a small laugh, then moved to the chair beside his bed, leaned over, kissed his cheek, and sat down, fingers worrying the edge of the blanket.
“Chloe wanted me to come see you first,” she said softly.
“I thought she should, but she’s a tough one to argue with. ”
“I’m glad you came. I wanted to see you.” He looked at her—really looked. “How are you holding up?”
She shrugged. Her eyes were glassy but dry.
“I don’t know. Lots to figure out. Lots of new information to deal with.
Mom doesn’t know what to say to me about my dad—the man who raised me for the first five years of my life.
That man out there…” She waved her hand.
“He’s not anything to me. I don’t care what a piece of paper says, but Mom’s struggling with it all.
The lie she told me, my dad, herself…it’s eating at her, and I wish it wasn’t.
I don’t blame her for what she did. Of course, she didn’t know what kind of man she had a one-night stand with.
” Fedora spoke quickly, but softly. As if the words didn’t register, but they did. They hung heavy between them.
“Your mom loves you. You’re her world, and she’d do anything for you.” He let the silence settle for a moment. “You’re tough. You’ll get through this. I hope you know that.”
“I get it from my mom,” she said, then hesitated. “And maybe a little from you. I know you were only in my life for a short time, but you made a difference.”
That hit harder than he’d expected. He shifted in bed, trying not to wince. “I’m sorry for everything that happened. For what you went through. For the role I played in... your past.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Fedora’s voice was quiet. “You were kind to my mom. I know that. She never said a bad word about you. She defended you when I got angry over you leaving and cutting off communication. I was a kid and I?—”
“Felt abandoned by another father figure,” he finished her statement. “I wanted to be more,” he admitted. “Back then. But I was running from things I didn’t even understand. I hurt you both by leaving, and I’m sorry.”
“You’ve said all that before.” She smiled. “Thank you for saving my life.”
“It wasn’t just me,” he said. “You have Chloe to thank for that, as well as the rest of the guys. They all played a part.”
“You’ve always been so humble.” She let out a slight chuckle. “I’ve always wanted siblings, and now I have a half-sister. And the man I’ve always thought of as kind of a dad is in love with her.” She leaned forward, taking his hand. “Don’t deny it.”
“I’m not,” Hayes said. “But like I told your mom, it’s complicated.”
“Chloe loves you, too, you know. So, I don’t see how.”
Leave it to Fedora to point out the obvious. She was always good like that. “We’ve both got a world of hurt between us. She spent her adult life chasing her twin’s killer, and I’ve?—”
“Spent your life hiding from feeling loved.”
He swallowed his breath. His heart raced. “I guess I never really thought of it like that.”
“I remember one night, about a month before you left. Dawson, Keaton, and Fletcher were at the house. I was supposed to be in my room doing homework, but I was sitting in the hallway, listening. They all asked you what you were afraid of. I didn’t really understand your answer.”
“I’m not sure I remember what I said.”
“You told them you weren’t afraid of anything, except maybe hurting me, because you didn’t know how to be the kind of person I needed. That you didn’t love my mom, and that wasn’t fair.”
“Jesus, I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
“It’s okay.” Fedora squeezed his hand. “Thing was, we never felt unloved by you, which is why I never understood it. Maybe you didn’t love my mom the way you love Chloe, but for the short time you were with us, love filled our home.
You taught me what unconditional love looks like.
Well, you and my mom. When I met my fiancé, he oddly reminded me of you.
He’s logical, and sometimes it makes me nuts, but he’s always quietly there. Kind of like you.”
Before Hayes could respond, the door opened again.
Chloe stood in the doorway, her expression tight with unspoken emotion, but her eyes—those eyes—were focused only on him.
Fedora stood, glancing between them. “I’ve got to get back to my mom.” She touched Hayes’s hand, then gave Chloe a nod as she slipped out.
Chloe shut the door softly behind her and crossed the room. “You scared the hell out of me,” she whispered, sinking into the chair Fedora had just left.
Hayes reached for her hand. “Yeah,” he rasped. “I scared the hell out of myself, too.”
Chloe laced her fingers with his, careful not to disturb the IV taped to his wrist. His hand was warm, rough, calloused—alive. And that was the only thing keeping her from breaking apart.
“You shouldn’t have stepped in front of that gun,” she whispered.
“You would’ve done the same for me.”
“Doesn’t make it any less reckless.” She bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes stinging again. “Hayes… if that bullet had been?—”
“But it wasn’t.” His thumb brushed the back of her hand. “I’m here.”
Her throat tightened. “You can’t do that to me. You can’t leave me before we even figure out what this is.”
He let out a soft breath, his gaze never leaving hers. “We know what this is, Chloe. It’s time to say it. We don’t need a big romantic moment. That’s not us.”
“It’s not the right time,” she said quickly, because part of her was still terrified to hear it. Still scared that speaking it aloud would make it fragile. Breakable.
But Hayes shook his head. He shifted, wincing slightly, then reached up to cup her cheek. “I love you.”
It landed like a shot in the dark—clean, true, devastating in its honesty.
“I didn’t expect it,” he continued. “I didn’t go looking for it. Hell, I tried to convince myself I couldn’t feel it. But it’s been there. And when I thought I was going to die tonight, the only thing I regretted was not saying it before they put me on that boat and drove off.”
She swallowed hard. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we argued about tide patterns, and you smiled like it was the best part of your week.”
His eyes softened. “I remember that.”
“You were so damn sure I was wrong,” she said with a wet laugh. “You’re still wrong, by the way.”
“Not about this.”
She leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. “No. Not about this.”
They stayed like that for a beat—just breathing, skin against skin, hand in hand—until the machines beeped and the fluorescent light buzzed, and reality gently nudged its way back in.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” she murmured.
“I’ll try not to,” he said. “But if it’s you on the line next time…”
“I know.”
They both knew.
This wasn’t about perfection. It was about survival. Trust. And love, messy and complicated and painfully real.
She kissed him gently, then rested her head on his shoulder—his heartbeat steady beneath her ear.
For now, that was enough.