Chapter 21 Emma
S unlight streams through the hospital window, painting pale golden lines across the sterile white walls. The rhythmic beeping of monitors blends with the soft hum of footsteps in the hallway, and the distant chatter of nurses filters through the door. Everything feels too bright, and too sharp, like the world has been stripped raw.
My body aches with a deep, bone-weary exhaustion, every muscle heavy as if I’m buried under a mountain of lead. My limbs won’t move the way I want them to. A dull, numb sensation settles into my bones, wrapping around my ribs like a vice. My head throbs with sluggish thoughts as I try to push through the fog.
How did I get here?
I close my eyes, searching for the last thing I remember.
Hanging from the train bridge.
Huntz.
The gunshot.
And the freezing water swallowing me whole.
My breath hitches, and my fingers twitch against the stiff sheets. I shift slightly, wincing as pain flares through my side. I swallow hard and try to move my left hand, but something feels off.
Grandma Estonia’s ring.
It’s gone!
Panic spikes through my veins, but I’m too weak to do anything about it. I turn my head slowly, my neck stiff, every movement sending sharp, searing aches through my body.
Grace is sitting beside my bed, scrolling through her phone, her foot bouncing restlessly. Dark circles shadow her tired eyes, and the tight pull of her lips tells me she hasn’t slept in days.
I try to speak, but my throat is dry as sandpaper, the words catching before they make it out. I try again, barely whispering, “Grace?”
Her head snaps up so fast, I swear, she nearly drops her phone.
Her eyes widen, and she leans over the bed rail, her face softening with pure, unfiltered relief. “Emma,” she breathes, her voice trembling. Her hands hover over me like she wants to touch me but isn’t sure if she should.
“You’re awake,” she whispers, like she doesn’t quite believe it. Then, without hesitation, she whips her head toward the door. “Mrs. Silver! She’s awake!”
The door bursts open.
My mother rushes inside, her face pale and eyes swollen from crying. She looks as if she’s been holding her breath since the moment I fell into the river, and now, she’s finally exhaling.
She’s at my bedside in seconds, gripping my hand like a lifeline. Grace holds a cup next to my face and places a straw against my lips. I barely find the strength to wet my lips and sip.
“Emma, sweetheart,” Mom sobs, fresh tears slipping down her cheeks. “We’ve been waiting for this. The doctors kept saying you’d wake up, but we were so scared. You almost died.”
The words hit me like a freight train, slamming into my chest, leaving me gasping. My gaze darts between them, searching for some kind of explanation, but all I find is the overwhelming weight of it all pressing down on me.
“What…happened?” My voice barely makes it out, hoarse and weak.
Grace and my mom exchange a look before Grace swallows hard.
“Huntz shot you,” she says carefully. “And you fell off the bridge.”
The memory surges back in jagged fragments—Misty, Huntz, the gunshot, the icy plunge into the river. The pain of it crashes into me all over again. I try to move, but the sharp agony in my abdomen stops me cold, and I suck in a breath through clenched teeth.
“Misty?” I gasp.
“She’s okay,” Grace reassures me. “She managed to climb back onto the tracks.”
My mom tightens her grip on my hand, her thumb brushing over my bruised knuckles. “Huntz is dead, sweetheart. He fell from the bridge. They found his body down the river.”
Dead.
I let the word settle in, heavy and final. Huntz is gone and he can’t hurt anyone anymore.
But it doesn’t feel like a victory. Not when my body feels like it’s been through a shredder. Not when my father is still dying somewhere in a hospital bed. Not when I wake up in a room without Eric.
My mom’s voice wavers, her fingers trembling against my skin. “Emma, you had no heartbeat,” she chokes out. “When Tristan called… I thought we lost you. You’ve been in an induced coma for a week, honey.”
A week? I’ve been unconscious for an entire week? And Eric’s not here?
The realization sinks into my bones, cold and unforgiving. I fought for him, for us. I gave him everything. But when I need him most, he’s not here.
A hollow ache spreads through my chest, twisting with something sharp and painful. Why isn’t he here?
I squeeze my eyes shut as her words sink in.
“You almost died,” my mom whispers.
The thought chills me in a way the river never could.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, even though I’m not. Nothing about this is okay. My body hurts, my head throbs, and my heart feels hollow.
My mom strokes my hair, whispering reassurances, but her touch can’t ease the tightness in my chest, and the gnawing feeling that something’s missing.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Where… Where is everyone?” I whisper.
My stomach clenches as I force myself to ask the one question that’s been clawing at the back of my mind since I opened my eyes.
“Where’s Eric?” My voice cracks, barely above a whisper.
Grace glances toward the door, shifting in her seat. “Your brothers have been waiting to see you. I’ll go get them,” she says.
She stands quickly, like she’s been waiting for an excuse to move, and gives my mom a reassuring look before slipping out of the room.
I swallow, my throat raw, as I repeat, “Mom? Where’s Eric?”
My mom’s face shifts, her expression carefully neutral. “He’s in Lords Valley, honey. He… He was busy.” She strokes her fingers over my hand, but I don’t miss the hesitation in her voice.
Busy.
The word settles like a stone in my stomach.
I lock eyes with her, searching for the truth. “What aren’t you telling me?”
She shakes her head like she doesn’t want to answer, then squeezes my fingers, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “We’ve been so worried about you, sweetheart,” she murmurs, voice raw. “But you’re awake now, and that’s all that matters.”
The door swings open, and the sound of heavy footsteps fills the room. Julian and Tristan walk inside, their faces softening the second they see me awake. Julian reaches me first, his usual calm cracking into something raw.
“Emma.” His voice catches as he grips my hand, his warmth grounding me. “Thank God you’re okay.”
Tristan stands stiffly at the other side of the bed, arms crossed over his chest. His relief is clear, but so is the frustration simmering beneath it.
“We thought we lost you,” he says, his jaw tight. “What the hell were you thinking, running after Huntz like that?”
And there it is.
I exhale, sinking deeper into the pillows. My entire body aches, and Tristan’s lecture isn’t helping.
“I couldn’t let him take Misty,” I yawn, exhaustion tugging at my eyelids. “She needed me.”
“Misty’s fine. You’re the one who almost died,” Julian says, dragging a chair closer. His voice is tight with barely restrained emotion. “You should have gotten help instead of running headfirst into a dangerous situation. Huntz shot you, Emma. He nearly killed you.”
I turn away, shifting toward Tristan, but the disapproval in his eyes is just as heavy.
“You put yourself in danger,” he says, voice low. “And for what? Eric is not worth dying for. He’s brought nothing but chaos into your life. You deserve better.”
His name is like a punch to the gut. My throat tightens as I turn back toward Julian, my heart tangled in a mess of love, pain, and confusion.
I think of the last time I saw Eric, and the desperation in his eyes when I left. I want to defend him. I want to tell my brothers they’re wrong.
But the words won’t come.
Where is he?
“He’s not coming anywhere near you ever again,” Julian states, his voice edged with finality.
“Over my dead body,” Tristan adds.
“Stop it.” My voice wavers. I meet Tristan’s hard stare, then Julian’s, forcing strength into my words. “I appreciate your care for me, but you don’t get to decide what’s best for me. That’s my decision. I love you both, but you’re way too overprotective, and it has to stop. I need to live my life for me.”
Julian exhales sharply. “Eric’s not the right decision. What he did to Caroline?—”
“—is bullshit,” I snap. “You don’t know everything. She ruined his life. You don’t get to judge him, and you sure as hell don’t get to make decisions for either of us.”
Julian flinches, exchanging a glance with Tristan. The tension in Tristan’s face softens, just slightly.
“We’re just trying to keep you safe,” he mutters.
My mom, who’s been silent until now, sighs and stands.
“Safe?” I let out a bitter laugh. “And you thought keeping me away from Dad was the way to do that?”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Mom interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “Emma just woke up. She doesn’t need you two getting in her business. She’s right. She’s old enough to make her own choices. You both need to respect that and support her. That’s. All.”
Julian sighs, then leans down and presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry, Ems,” he murmurs. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”
Tristan nods, his gaze lingering. “We’ll let you rest, but we’ll be back later.”
As they head for the door, Mom calls after them. “Wait, bring him in.”
I frown. “Bring who?”
Mom’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “It’s a surprise.”
Eric. My heart jumps, hope flickering to life.
Julian and Tristan return moments later, rolling a wheelchair into the room. My sharp inhale stabs right in the middle of my chest.
Dad.
My heart leaps as I take in the sight of him. He’s smiling, whole, and alive.
“Daddy?” My voice trembles, tears burning at the corners of my eyes.
He looks better and stronger. His cheeks are fuller, and his eyes shine brighter. The man who had been slipping away, who I thought I might never see like this again, is here.
“You’re here?” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.
He grins as my brothers wheel him closer to the bed. “Of course, I am, sweetheart,” he says, his voice hoarse but steady. “I had to see my girl.”
Julian and Tristan step back, leaving me alone with my parents.
Dad reaches for my hand, his grip warm and reassuring. The instant our fingers touch, peace settles inside me.
“And I’ve got good news,” he continues, his smile widening. “The last round of chemo worked. The doctors are saying I’m in remission.”
The air rushes from my lungs and for a moment, the entire world stills as relief crashes over me, warm and overwhelming. Tears spill over, and I squeeze his hand, my entire body shaking with emotion.
“You… You’re gonna be okay?” My voice wobbles.
His fingers tighten around mine. “I’m gonna be okay, sweetheart. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
A sob escapes my throat, and I don’t even try to hold it back. I clutch his hand like I’ll never let go. For the first time in what feels like forever, something is right.
Dad is okay.
“Dad, that’s amazing,” I whisper. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m so sorry I left.”
“This wasn't your battle to fight,” he murmurs. “And fuck cancer.” A small, tired smile tugs at his lips.
A tear slips down my cheek. “Fuck cancer,” I echo.
His grip tightens around my hand, grounding me. “Had a little setback while you were gone,” he admits, “but looks like I’ll get to walk you down the aisle after all.”
I stiffen. The thought of a wedding, of walking down an aisle, twists something sharp inside me. My chest aches as I force myself to smile. “I’m not sure there will be a wedding, Daddy.”
Dad studies me for a long beat, then chuckles softly, wiping away my tears with the rough pad of his thumb.
“Everything’s gonna wrk out. I promise,” he says, voice full of certainty. “Emma, you’ve loved the man for years, and that kind of love doesn’t just disappear.” His gaze turns serious, his blue eyes mirroring my own. “Don’t let a mistake, or fear, steer you away from love. Forgiveness doesn’t mean forgetting. It means finding a way forward.”
I swallow hard, his words settling deep. Am I ready to look for a way forward? Is it too late?
The doubt coils tighter around my chest. It’s suffocating, because honestly, I don’t know if I can live without him.
Dad’s hand lingers on mine, his warmth seeping into my skin. Then his expression changes. Something shifts in his eyes, and a shadow falls over his face.
“Emma, honey,” he says gently, “I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet, but… Eric’s grandfather passed away. His funeral was yesterday.”
The air rushes from my lungs and a sharp, searing ache rips through my chest.
“Grandpa Albert?” My voice is barely a whisper.
Mom rushes to my other side and squeezes my hand, her eyes full of quiet sympathy. “He had a heart attack. There was nothing anyone could do.”
My breath catches, the grief hitting like a tidal wave. Albert was like a grandfather to me too. Steady, kind, and always there.
And now, he’s gone.
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, hot and endless. “I should’ve been there,” I choke out. “I should’ve?—”
“You didn’t know, sweetheart,” Mom soothes, brushing my hair back. “None of us could have known.”
But Eric was there, and I wasn’t there for him. The thought strikes me like a knife to the gut.
While I lay in this hospital bed, he was burying the man who raised him. Alone.
Oh God.
I wasn’t there when he needed me most.
The guilt is suffocating, pressing against my ribs like a vice. If I hadn’t run out of Eric’s cabin like the hounds of hell were at my heels… If I hadn’t taken it upon myself to run off after Misty without help… If I hadn’t been so reckless, I could have been there for Eric.
The tears fall harder now as I imagine the pain Eric is feeling. Alone. He idolized his grandpa. He must be devastated. How is he functioning? How is he getting along without me there? What if he decides he doesn’t need me, after all?
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts.
Annabelle steps inside, her gaze softening when she sees me awake.
“Hey, Emma,” she says, her voice warm. She glances at my parents, then back at me. “Is this a good time?”
Mom exchanges a look with Dad, then nods. “We’ll give you two a minute.”
They squeeze my hands before slipping out, leaving me alone with Annabelle.
She sits beside me, studying me with quiet intensity. “You look good,” she teases.
I let out a dry chuckle. “Liar.”
I catch my reflection in the window—pale skin, dark circles, hair limp and lifeless. A ghost of the woman I used to be. I don’t feel like me anymore.
“We’ve all been worried about you,” she says softly.
“I’ll be fine,” I murmur, trying to believe it. I swallow hard, then meet her gaze. “Annabelle… I heard about Grandpa Albert.” Tears well in my eyes again. “I’m so sorry.”
She nods, blinking back tears. “It’s been hard. Eric… He’s taking it really badly.” She swipes at a stray tear. “He’s a mess, Emma. Please tell me you’re coming back once you’re well. He needs you.”
My chest tightens again. “I don’t know if I can,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know if he even wants me to.”
Annabelle reaches for my hand. “Of course, he does. Emma, he loves you so damn much. Don’t throw away what you’ve built together. Love is rare. Please don’t let it slip through your fingers.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I don’t want to. But he kept me away from my father. He didn’t tell me how serious things were.”
She shakes her head. “I understand why you’re hurt. What he did was stupid. But his love? That’s real. When he pulled you out of the river?—”
“—He pulled me out of the river?” I cut in.
She nods. “He thought he’d lost you. He was out looking for you when he came to our house. He told Grandpa the truth, and then Grandpa’s heart gave out. Emma, I’ve never seen him so broken, but there’s no doubt in my heart that he loves you.”
A tear slips down my cheek. “Maybe. But love isn’t always enough.”
Annabelle sighs, her expression soft. “No. Sometimes it’s not.” She squeezes my hand. “I know, you need time. But don’t throw away the years you’ve spent loving my brother just because you’re scared.”
I stare at her, torn between hope and fear.
“When you’re ready,” she continues, “you’ll always have a home in Lords Valley.” A small smile plays on her lips. “Apparently, the person who bought the ranch agreed to let us lease it.”
My stomach twists. She doesn’t know, but Annabelle’s right about one thing. I still have a home in Lords Valley.
I squeeze her hand. “Thanks, Annabelle.”
She leans in and hugs me, warm and firm. “One more thing,” she whispers. “When you’re healed, there’s a spot waiting for you at the next bull-riding competition.”
I let out a soft laugh. “That’s a year away.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. But it got you to smile, didn’t it?”
I shake my head, smiling despite the heaviness in my chest.
As she leaves, silence settles over the room again. I glance at the window, watching the city skyline stretch endlessly before me. I miss the fields and the wide-open sky. The smell of fresh hay and the sound of horses in the morning.
And Eric. I miss him so damn much.
I touch my stomach, feeling the healing wound beneath the hospital gown.
I may have survived and saved Misty and the ranch, but was it enough to save us?