25. Chapter 25
Chapter 25
Balboa Naval Medical Center, San Diego
I saac came to with a start.
Not in a hospital bed.
Not in the sterile, fluorescent-lit haze of an ER.
But on a gurney, the harsh rumble of an ambulance engine vibrating beneath him, the distant wail of sirens cutting through the static in his head.
Fuck.
Pain splintered through his ribs, sharp and relentless, spreading across his torso with every shallow breath. His vision swam as he tried to move, but a firm hand on his shoulder pinned him down.
“Stay still, dumbass,” Dom’s voice cut through the haze, dry and unimpressed. “You’re fine. Just act like it for a second.”
Isaac blinked hard, trying to push through the fog in his head.
The last thing he remembered—
The crush of water, the twist of the current, the cracking pain in his ribs, the fucking suffocating burn of drowning.
And Dom.
Hauling him up.
Keeping him breathing.
Now, he was here.
The wail of sirens, the IV taped to his arm, Dom sitting in the jump seat of the ambulance, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Isaac groaned. “Where the fuck—”
“On our way to the hospital,” Dom cut in. “They got you right off the beach. Wasn’t about to haul your heavy ass back to Coronado.”
Isaac exhaled sharply, every inch of his ribs protesting. “Jesus. You bring me flowers, too?”
Dom didn’t blink. “Nah, figured saving your life was enough.”
Isaac rolled his eyes, regretting it immediately when a fresh wave of pain seared through his side.
“How bad?”
“Couple cracked ribs, bad bruising. No lung puncture, though, so congratulations, you got lucky.”
Isaac grunted. “Wouldn’t call this lucky.”
Dom shrugged. “Could be worse. Could be dead.”
Isaac huffed out a breath. “Would’ve been easier.”
Dom snorted. “Oh, yeah. Fucking delightful. ‘Hey, Vero, Zach, Jesse, I let Rayleigh drown today. Let’s go grab a beer.’”
Isaac smirked despite himself.
The paramedic leaned over. “We’re five minutes out. You still good?”
Isaac gave a thumbs-up, though it was mostly for show. He felt like shit.
Dom just shook his head. “Gonna be real entertaining watching you sit still for the next few weeks.”
Isaac froze slightly. “Weeks?”
Dom smirked. “Yeah, buddy. Three to four weeks of ‘take it easy’ orders.”
The words landed like a sucker punch.
Three to four weeks.
No training. No diving.
No distractions.
Isaac clenched his jaw. “Fucking hell.”
Dom just chuckled, leaning back against the wall of the ambulance.
“Better start getting real comfortable with being uncomfortable.”
* * * * *
Later that night, the lights in the hospital room were dimmed, a distant monitor beeping somewhere behind him as Isaac sat half-upright in the hospital bed.
The meds had dulled the worst of the pain, but every movement still felt like hell.
A bunch of cracked ribs were a bitch like that.
Zach and Shay were parked in the corner, bullshitting about something, while Jesse was scrolling through his phone, looking unimpressed.
Dom was leaned up against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Isaac ran a hand over his face, exhaling. “Jesus, you all have nothing better to do?”
“Not really,” Shay said, kicking his feet up. “This is the most fun I’ve had all week.”
Isaac flipped him off.
Jesse glanced over. “So what’s the verdict?”
Zach sighed. “Cracked ribs, some minor internal bruising. No collapsed lung, which is honestly a miracle. But no high-impact training, no diving, no work for at least a month.”
Isaac scowled. “That’s excessive.”
Dom gave him a look. “It’s what they told you, so it’s what you’re doing.”
Isaac bit back a response, staring at the ceiling instead.
A month.
A month of no movement.
A month of sitting still.
A month of doing nothing but thinking.
The room felt too small.
His own skin felt too tight.
Zach, sensing his mood, clapped a hand on his good shoulder. “Look, man, it could be worse. You get a few weeks to kick back, relax, maybe get your head on straight.”
Isaac forced a smirk. “My head’s always on straight.”
Shay scoffed. “Yeah, that’s why you almost died today.”
Isaac huffed out a breath, shaking his head.
“Go the fuck home,” he muttered, adjusting against the pillows. “You’re all giving me a headache.”
Zach laughed, standing. “Fine, but don’t get too comfortable. We’re hitting San Onofre again when you’re cleared.”
Isaac smirked. “Good. I owe that ocean a fight.”
Jesse grinned, heading for the door. “Try not to die before then.”
One by one, they filtered out, Dom lingering last.
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just studied Isaac, expression unreadable.
Finally, Isaac said, “Brother, thanks for saving my life.”
“You saved Isabel’s life. I saved yours. Seems like a fair trade.”
Of all the things he expected Dom to say, that wasn’t one of them. His chest tightened slightly.
“…Yeah?”
Dom smirked. “Yeah. Try not to make it a habit, though.”
Isaac chuckled, wincing when it sent another sharp pain through his ribs.
“Noted.”
Dom gave him one last nod, then turned for the door.
The room fell into silence.
And for the first time in his whole goddamn life—
Isaac had nothing to do but think.
* * * * *
By day four, Isaac was losing his goddamn mind.
He wasn’t built for sitting still.
Never had been.
The first two days in the hospital were fine. Not good, but fine. He’d been stuck in a hospital bed, doped up, stitched up, poked and prodded, told a hundred times that he should’ve been more careful. That he should take it easy. That he couldn’t train, dive, or deploy.
He tuned all that shit out.
The worst part was that he’d had too much time to think.
Then, they let him go.
And by the time Thursday rolled around, he was home, alone, and absolutely fucking feral with boredom.
He tried to sleep. He was tired, but his brain wouldn’t shut off.
He tried to watch movies. He got halfway through three of them before turning them off, unable to focus on anything for more than ten minutes.
He tried to eat. He made himself a solid meal—chicken, rice, some greens, protein-heavy, like his body was still in work mode. But halfway through, he realized he wasn’t hungry. Not really. He’d lost track of time, lost track of the day, lost track of what the fuck he was even doing.
The house was too quiet.
His phone was too silent.
And it was driving him insane.
Isaac had never understood boredom before. His life was always motion, momentum, pushing forward, no time to stop. There was always a mission, training, adrenaline, sex, something to burn through the restless energy that lived under his skin.
But now?
Now, he was stuck.
His ribs were still tender as hell. The bruising across his torso was fucking ugly, deep and dark, a nasty reminder every time he moved wrong.
But he could move.
And he needed to move.
He checked his phone again, scrolling through dry texts, nothing interesting.
No messages from Rosie.
Nothing.
She knew.
Chris and Shay must have told her. She must have heard.
But still—nothing.
Not a check-in.
Not a “you okay?”
Not even a bullshit excuse for why she hadn’t reached out.
It was fine.
Except it wasn’t.
Because if the roles were reversed, if she’d been the one who got caught under a current, slammed into a rock, nearly fucking drowned—
He wouldn’t have waited.
He wouldn’t have thought twice.
He would’ve been there, because that’s what you do for people who matter.
And maybe that was the part that pissed him off the most.
Isaac sat at the kitchen table, leg bouncing, fingers drumming against the wood.
His phone was face-up. Mocking him.
The half-eaten plate of food sat in front of him, untouched for an hour now.
He didn’t want to sit here anymore.
He needed to move.
He needed to go to L.A.
Find her.
Make her talk to him.
Make her look at him.
He stood up, ignoring the sharp pull in his ribs.
Snatched his keys off the counter.
Fuck it.
It was time.