Chapter 20
The fluorescent lights of the ER buzz with an irritating frequency, casting everything in a harsh white glow that makes the antiseptic smell even more pronounced, burning the back of my throat. It’s like a punch to the gut, a constant reminder of the pain I’ve caused someone else I care about.
The waiting room moves in and out of focus. A nurse asks me for Madison’s full name, another asks if I’m family. When I tell them no, I’m told I have to wait until the doctors see her before I can be with her.
The television mounted in the corner plays some show on HGTV. A vending machine whirs as someone buys a snack. Hushed voices of other loved ones crowded in the busy waiting room.
I notice all of it and none of it.
I’ve been here before—the waiting, the helplessness, the not knowing—but the circumstances were different.
Last time I was lying in a hospital bed dealing with my own injuries. I experienced it all before, but I barely had time to let any of it settle before something else pulled my attention. This time, all I have is the worry and anxiety.
All of my focus is on the woman behind the doors marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. The doors that silently mock me. The ones that swallowed Madison whole while I was forced to stay here—waiting.
I scrub my hands over my face, the memory of Madison’s small fingers in mine still lingers, and I force myself to breathe. The need to see her, to feel the warmth of her hand in mine is staggering. I knew I cared for her before this happened, but how did I miss it becoming so much deeper.
It feels like an eternity, but in reality it’s only minutes before someone comes back for me. “She’s asking for you.” A nurse with a soft smile stands in front of me.
She doesn’t confirm who I am, but I guess she doesn’t really need to.
It’s not surprising. I’ve seen the looks passing over everyone’s face when they see me.
I’m just glad no one’s commented on who I am, or approached me about anything other than the reason I’m here.
It doesn’t matter, at some point I’ll have to call Ian.
There’s a high probability my location will be blown as a result of this, but I can’t be sorry about it.
Being with Madison is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Relief at the nurse’s words hit so hard I’m grateful I’m sitting. I don’t think my knees could support me at the moment.
Taking a deep breath, I push to my feet and follow the nurse as she leads me through the ER before stopping outside a room labeled Trauma One.
“She’s alert,” the nurse murmurs. “She’s still in a cervical collar, but she’s stable, so you can sit with her while the doctors work on their evaluation.”
The words go in one ear and fly out the other. Nothing except the fact she’s awake and asking for me sticks in my mind. Nothing else matters.
Pushing through the curtain, I find Madison in a narrow bed looking impossibly small against the white sheets.
She’s still strapped to the backboard and the brace is around her neck just like the nurse warned, but her eyes are open and they track my movement with a clarity that wasn’t there in the ambulance.
“There you are.” Her voice is rough, but it’s music to my ears. It hasn’t been long since I heard it, but there’s a confidence behind it that was missing before, and that’s more than enough to release some of the pressure sitting on my chest.
I cross the room before I even realize I’m moving. “I’m here.” The words are quieter than I intend, but the soft look in her eyes tells me she heard them just fine.
A monitor beeps steadily beside her and it’s another weight lifted. I hate the reason I need to hear the sound, but it’s another sign she’s alive and well, and I can’t have enough of those right now.
“I’m Doctor Winters.” The doctor steps forward, pulling a penlight out from her pocket before beginning her exam. “I’ve got a couple questions for you and then we’ll take you for some tests.”
“Okay.” Madison’s voice wavers and her eyes bounce from the doctor back to mine, panic swimming in their glassy depths.
I step forward, taking her hand in mine, trying to offer her as much comfort as I can. It’s not much, but it’s all I’m capable of at the moment.
“Can you tell me your full name?”
“Madison Mackenzie Hawthorne.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“The hospital.”
“Do you know what city?”
“I’m assuming Gettysburg, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Good.” The doctor offers a small smile, the only indication that things are all right. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Uh.” Madison’s brows pinch, and panic sets in. What does it mean that she can’t remember today’s date? “December twelfth.”
“Correct.” Dr. Winters asks Madison to follow her finger before continuing. “Any nausea?”
“Um, no. My head hurts.”
The doctor nods but doesn’t address the comment. “Do you remember what happened?”
“The last thing I remember is racing Beckett.”
Guilt slams into me, but I manage to nod my head when Dr. Winters glances to me for confirmation. “That was right before Meadow reared and threw her,” I force out through the tightening of my chest.
“Good.” The doctor nods before giving her full attention back to Madison. “It’s normal to forget what happened right before an accident. Especially with a concussion.”
Concussion. The word echoes in my head. Somehow that diagnosis makes everything about the situation worse.
I know concussions are common and don’t have to mean anything serious, but paired with being strapped to a backboard and losing consciousness, the guilt is bearing down on me.
“We’ve already sent your bloodwork down for some labs. They should be back any minute, and then we’ll get you to radiology for some imaging.”
Madison frowns. “Bloodwork?”
“It’s routine,” Dr. Winters says easily. “We just want to make sure it’s safe to take you for more tests and prescribe any medications that may be necessary.”
“They’re especially useful with a head injury that includes memory loss,” the nurse who brought me back offers.
Madison’s grip on my hand tightens and her eyes swell with worry.
“But that’s normal, right?” I rush to ask the doctor.
“Entirely.” She smiles. “I’m going to step out, but Katie will get me as soon as your results are back.”
She waits for a quiet hum from Madison before leaving the room. The nurse who brought me back offers a hesitant smile before moving to the computer by the door, her attention focused on the chart on the screen.
The room grows quiet and Madison’s eyes fall shut, a silent tear leaking out the corner. My movements are slow and gentle, but I can’t stop myself from reaching out to brush the wetness away.
I can’t stop looking at her. At the scrape near her hairline, a bruise already forming around it. She catches me staring and I squeeze her hand in mind, unable to say anything.
“Hey,” she whispers. Her attempt at a smile wavers and another tears slips free.
“Hey, yourself,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. I force myself to swallow, trying to clear the emotion trapped there.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Feels like I did.” I shuffle closer to the bed, wanting to remove as much space between us as I can. “For a second there, I thought—” I stop, my words catching. “I’m sorry, Madison. I’m so sorry you got hurt.”
The crease between her eyebrows deepens, and I feel the tension in her hand, as if she wants to reach for me, but that’s one thing she doesn’t have to worry about. I’m not leaving her side.
“Beckett, no. This isn’t your fault.”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“What?” Madison interrupts. “I would have gone on the ride regardless of if you were there or not, and there’s no way either of us could have known Meadow would spook.”
It’s reflex that has me squeezing her hand again. Her skin is cool and a little clammy, but the feel of her palm against mine anchors me.
“I’m okay,” she says softly, her thumb tracing slow circles against my knuckles. “Or I will be. I’ve just gotta do whatever the doctors tell me.”
I bend, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, lingering there as the next words leave my lips. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I scared myself.”
I pull back slightly, meeting her eyes.
It’s only been two weeks, and yet I feel like it’s been so much longer. How can it feel so natural with her when I’ve never experienced anything like this before? Then again, if I’m honest with myself, it’s not just her.
Everything since I got to Stonebridge Hollow has felt more real, more authentic. Like it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. And these people—not just Madison but the people I’ve met around town—are exactly who I’m supposed to be with.
Two weeks, and I feel more at home here than I have anywhere else since I lost my parents. I don’t know how that’s possible, but I can’t deny the truth any longer.
My eyes fall closed and I rest my forehead against Madison’s. Breathing the same air as her for a few heartbeats is enough to chase a bit more of the panic away.
“It isn’t your fault,” Madison whispers.
I squeeze my eyes shut a little tighter, as if doing so will stop the images of her fall from playing on a loop. “I keep replaying it.”
“I know.”
“If I’d just—”
“What?” she interrupts and I don’t know how to answer.
There are a hundred tiny things I could have done. If I’d insisted we rode back sooner. If I didn’t suggest the movie. If I didn’t agree to chase her. If I never suggested the ride…if I never came to Stonebridge Hollow.
More what-ifs. So many more.
Like she can read my mind, Madison interrupts my spiraling thoughts before they fully consume me. “Look at me.”
I lift my forehead from hers, only enough that I can see her clearly as I open my eyes to do as she says.
Her expression is steady despite the pain I know she has to be in. “I chose to go.”
“I know.” The words are hushed, more breath than anything.
“I chose to race you.”
“Madi—”
“I looked back instead of where I was going,” she continues as if I never tried to stop her, and I swallow, forcing the bile back down my throat at the image of the aftermath of that simple look.
“You didn’t make any of those decisions for me, so stop trying to carry them.” Her words are firm, but gentle, leaving no room for argument.
They don’t stop the guilt from coursing through me, but I won’t fight her on it anymore. It’s not what she needs right now.
“I’m here.” She squeezes my hand, her eyes bright with tears. “I’m still here.”
“I know.”
Gently, I lean forward and press a kiss to her lips. It’s not nearly enough, but it will have to do for now.
Before either of us can say anything else, Dr. Winters enters the room, her expressions shifted. The air of comfort she had with her earlier is gone, she’s more measured now—professional.
“Ms. Hawthorne, we got your bloodwork back.”
Madison nods. “Is everything okay?”
“Nothing of concern, just…” Her words trail off as she glances toward me briefly before looking back at Madison. “Are you okay if Mr. Stone stays while we discuss everything?”
“Yes,” Madison answers without hesitation, her grip on my hand tightening as if I might leave despite her response.
“All right.” She glances down at the tablet in her hands scanning something there before dropping it to her side and focuses all of her attention on Madison. “Due to your pregnancy we won’t be able to take you for an MRI, but I’d still like to get a CT scan to rule out any brain bleeds.”
“I’m sorry, due to what?” Madison squeaks.
“Due to your…” Dr. Winters words trail off as she takes in the shift in the room.
I can’t move. I feel Madison’s hand trembling in mine and I want to give her some kind of comfort, but my world is trapped on the word “pregnancy.” How is Madison pregnant? Who’s the father? Why didn’t she tell me?
“I’m not—I can’t be—I haven’t…” Madison stutters, her words forcing my thoughts back onto her.
Dr. Winters face softens and she steps forward, placing her hand on Madison’s shoulder.
“We’ll get someone down here from obstetrics to help answer all of your questions.
For now, I’m going to do a full neurological work-up to see if we can get you out of this collar and off this board, then we’ll get the ultrasound to check for internal injury.
” Her eyes come up to mine and they gentle even further. “Let’s focus on one thing at a time.”
Focus on one thing at a time. I can definitely do that. Like the fact the woman I’m falling for is pregnant with another man’s baby.
I’m shocked to realize it’s not the fact she’s pregnant that bothers me. It’s that she didn’t trust me with that information. That she was willing to explore something more between us while keeping something life altering from me.
How can she expect to build something real, something lasting, when she isn’t being honest?
Her grip on my hand tightens, bringing the room back into focus. My eyes land on hers and all I see is panic and fear shining through.
“Beckett,” she releases on a choked breath. “I didn’t know.”
I don’t know what it is—the panicked look in her eyes or the fear in her voice—but I know with one glance that this is as surprising to her as it is to me.
“Shh,” I soothe. “We’ll talk about that later. Let’s just make sure you’re both okay first.”