Chapter 18
Collins
I was passing reception, scanning faces when the air shifted.
Shouts.
Footsteps running. Monitors screaming. Doctors moving fast—too fast, toward one room. My stomach dropped. They’re losing her. I didn’t think. I didn’t pause. I ran.
“Clear!” someone shouted as I reached the doorway.
Her room was chaos, nurses moving, doctors calling numbers, hands pressing, machines flashing red like warnings I didn’t want to read.
Her heart rhythm stuttered on the monitor, jagged and wrong.
“What happened?” I demanded, already pulling on gloves.
“Sudden crash,” a nurse said breathlessly. “Vitals dropped. Heart rate unstable.”
I moved to her side. Her face was pale, lips slightly parted, lashes still against her cheeks like she was only sleeping.
Except she wasn’t.
“Anna,” I said sharply, leaning close. “Stay with me.”
The monitor screamed again—longer this time.
“Charging,” someone called.
My hands hovered near her, useless and shaking. I wasn’t supposed to talk to her like this. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this. But rules meant nothing when I was about to lose her.
“Anna,” I said again, voice breaking. “You don’t get to leave. Not now.”
The line flattened. “Shock!” Her body jerked as electricity surged through her. Nothing. My chest burned like I’d forgotten how to breathe.
“Again—charge!”
I leaned closer, my forehead almost touching hers.
“Anna, you can’t go,” I whispered. “You hear me? You can’t. You’re stronger than this. You don’t get to disappear on me.”
They shocked her again.
Still nothing.
Panic crawled up my spine, cold and sharp.
I forgot where I was. Forgot who could hear me.
“Come back to me,” I said, raw and shaking. “You’re not done yet. Not with me.”
The monitor twitched. A weak beat. Then another. Then a rhythm—uneven, but there.
“She’s back!” someone shouted.
Relief hit me so hard my knees almost gave out.
I stood there, frozen, watching the line stabilize, watching her chest rise again like the world had decided to give her back.
Slowly, the room calmed. Voices lowered. Movements softened.
But my hands were shaking.
I stepped back before anyone could look too closely at my face.
Before they could see what I couldn’t hide anymore.
I walked out into the hallway, turned the corner, and leaned my forehead against the cold wall.
I felt a lump in my throat.
I covered my mouth, forcing the sound down, forcing the tears back—but one slipped anyway, burning as it fell.
I almost lost her. And the truth terrified me. I didn’t just care.
I was already hers.
I spotted Michael near the reception desk, pacing with Veronica at his side, her hand clasped in his.
His questions—sharp, urgent—about where Anna had been moved landed heavier than they should have.
They weren’t even divorced yet, and he was already walking beside Veronica as if he had erased Anna from his life.
“Dr. Collins,” he called when he spotted me.
“I have your report. But first—I’ll take you to Anna’s room. We almost lost her.”
“You did? What happened?” He asked and followed without hesitation. When we reached the suite, I stopped him just outside the door.
“Whatever you do,” I said quietly, “don’t mention the divorce in front of her.”
He frowned. “She can’t hear us, can she?”
“There’s no certainty,” I replied. “But it’s possible. Every patient is different.”
A flicker of discomfort crossed his face. “Alright. I won’t.”
“Thank you,” I said.
He stepped inside, his gaze fixed on the room. “This…this room?” he asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.
I nodded. “I moved her here,” I said simply, letting the words carry their weight.
He glanced around, taking in the dim light, the monitors, the quiet luxury of the suite. “Doesn’t it…cost a fortune?” he asked cautiously, as if testing the boundaries.
“Hospital privileges,” I replied evenly. “As her doctor and temporary guardian, it was within my authority.”
He studied me for a moment, processing the answer. “I see,” he said softly, almost to himself.
“Wait here. I’ll get the file.”
I turned away before I could see anything else in his expression.
On my way back with files in hand, I nearly collided with Tim in the corridor.
“What’s the deal?” he muttered. “I heard you moved your patient into a VIP suite.”
“Yes,” I replied. “I’m her temporary guardian.”
Tim stopped walking. “I heard her husband was going to pull life support?”
“He was.”
“Damn.”
“If I’m responsible for her care, then she gets the best.”
Tim studied me for a moment too long. “Is that all this is?”
“No,” I said sharply. “Don’t go there.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You think we don’t notice? Staff’s talking, Collins.”
“It’s not what it looks like.”
He gave a knowing half-smile. “Or it’s exactly what it looks like.”
I didn’t answer. I just tightened my grip on the file in my hands and kept walking.
When I returned, Michael was waiting in the corridor.
I held out the folder. “Here you go.”
He took it, flipping it open briefly before closing it with a firm nod. Without another word, he turned and left, the faint echo of his footsteps fading down the corridor.
I lingered for a heartbeat, watching him leave, and then returned to her side, adjusting the blanket and brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. The room was quiet again, but the weight of the moment hung in the air.
I reached out, letting my hand rest over hers. Slowly, I laced my fingers through hers, feeling the warmth of her still, unresponsive hand.
“I’m here,” I murmured, my voice low, steady, meant only for her.
Tim popped his head around the doorframe. “Are you heading home tonight?”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Come around for some drinks,” he said, leaning casually against the doorway. “I’m having a few of the guys over.”
“Sure,” I answered, keeping my tone light, though my mind lingered on Anna for just a moment longer. “What time?”
“Around eight.”
“Okay, I’ll be there.”
He glanced toward Anna’s bed, then back at me, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “I’ll see you later.” With that, he stepped back into the hallway, the door clicking softly behind him.
I turned back to her, brushing a faint speck of dust from the corner of her lips before smoothing on a fresh layer of lip balm, careful not to nudge the monitors.
My eyes drifted to the plant by her bedside—I picked up the watering can, tipping just enough to moisten the soil, then rotated it so each leaf caught the soft sunlight slipping through the blinds.
Finally, I added a single crystal to the jar, letting it settle among the others.
Satisfied, I moved on to my rounds, checking on other patients, noting vitals, and confirming charts.
But even as I went through the motions, my thoughts kept drifting back to her—the faint warmth of her hand, the crystal jar now catching the light at the bedside.
Each detail, mundane to anyone else, held a quiet weight for me.
I finally made it home, closed the door behind me, and let out a long, heavy sigh. Plopping onto my bed face down, I muttered to myself, “I’m screwed.” The words felt heavier than usual, sticking to the back of my throat.
A few minutes later, I peeled myself off the mattress and headed to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower was a small relief, washing away the tension in my shoulders and the lingering thoughts of the hospital room. The air was steamy, and the sound of water hitting the tiles was relaxing.
When I stepped out, feeling a little more human, I got dressed. Tim was waiting, and I couldn’t exactly leave him hanging. One last check in the mirror, then I straightened up and walked to the elevator.
I arrived at Tim’s place. Marlon and another guy were lounging on the couch when I stepped in.
“Hey, bro!” they called out, grabbing my hand in a quick, firm shake.
“Glad you made it,” Tim said, grinning. “Chantelle’s coming by with her two friends.”
“She is?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. I told her you’d be here too.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked, suspicious.
“Maybe it’s time you two hit it off,” he said with a wink, “so you can take your mind off… that patient.”
My stomach tightened. “What do you mean?”
Tim leaned back, smirking. “Word travels fast at the hospital. They say you’ve developed…a deep attachment. Almost like you’re in love. Which, honestly, is not like you.”
I said nothing. My silence made his eyebrows shoot up.
“You’re not going to deny it?”
“I’m… letting Marlon take over her care when she wakes up,” I muttered, looking away.
“Oh no…” Tim leaned forward, mock horror on his face. “You fell in love with her?”
“How is that even possible? She’s unconscious.”
“You tell me,” Tim shrugged. “I’m as confused as you are.”
“I’m a mess,” I admitted.
“You’re not planning to pursue her when she wakes up, are you?” he asked, a hint of warning in his tone. “That could get you in a lot of trouble.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m transferring her to a new neurosurgeon and Marlon, who will handle her medical care from then on.”
“Wait… what about me?” Marlon stepped closer, curiosity written across his face.
“Someone caught the love fever with a patient,” Tim explained, “and he’s planning to hand her over to you.”
“Wait a minute!” Marlon blurted. “The one in a coma? Collins?”
“Yes, her,” I muttered, avoiding their eyes. Truth had a way of feeling heavier when spoken aloud.
“But how do you… develop feelings for someone in a coma?” Marlon asked, baffled.
“I guess… Sleeping Beauty is real,” Tim quipped.
“It’s not funny,” I said, shaking my head.
“I know it’s not,” Tim said, tone softer now. “But it’s serious. And it’s happening to the one doctor who built his career on never crossing lines. We just don’t want you or anyone to get into trouble.”
“I’m not going to do anything,” I said firmly. “Trust me.”
“We know you won’t cross that line,” Marlon said, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
A few minutes later, the door opened again and Chantelle walked in with her friends. Her smile appeared the moment she spotted me—easy, familiar, like she’d already decided this was going to be a good night.
“Ian,” she said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good,” I replied. “You?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” She motioned over her shoulder. “This is Mel and Felicity.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, offering a polite nod.
Chantelle didn’t bother sitting. She leaned against the counter, head tilted, eyes sharp with interest. “So… I’ve heard some rumours.”
“Of course you have.”
“Are they true?” she asked. “Of all the women you could fall for, you chose a patient? Did you two know each other before all this?”
I opened my mouth, but Tim beat me to it. “They locked eyes at a bar,” he said lightly. “Right before the accident. But Collins didn’t pursue her. She was about to get married.”
“And,” Marlon added with a grin, “because Tim tried to pursue her.”
Tim shot him a warning look. “That’s not what happened. Collins made it clear she was engaged. Whether I tried or not wouldn’t have changed that.”
Chantelle’s smile faded just a little. Her brows drew together. “But they are getting divorced now, right?”
The room went quiet.
Marlon continued, far too relaxed, “Collins won’t even be her primary doctor when she wakes up. A different neurosurgeon will oversee her case, and I’ll be taking over her rehabilitation. So technically…” He lifted a shoulder. “What’s stopping him?”
“Come on, Marlon,” Tim said, sharper now. “You can’t be serious. It’s not that simple.”
“I’m just saying,” Marlon replied. “There are loopholes.”
Something in my chest tightened.
“Enough,” I said, the word cutting through the room before I could soften it. Conversation stalled. Eyes turned to me. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
Tim cleared his throat, forcing a grin. “Alright then. Drinks.”
Glasses clinked. Someone laughed too loudly. The conversation shifted, safer topics filling the space where something raw had been left exposed.
But I barely heard it.
Because even if there were loopholes, and the lines blurred…
I wasn’t sure I deserved to want her at all.