Chapter 34
Donovan died last night. He died right in front of me. I watched in terror on that ambulance ride as his heart stopped beating. For two minutes, my person, my soulmate, my best friend, lay lifeless on the stretcher as hands and bodies frenzied around him in a steady beat, trying to compensate for the absence of rhythm on his heart monitor. That lone piercing beep echoes in my head, reminding me of everything at stake. And for two dreadful minutes, my mind conjured painstaking images of a life without Donovan.
As soon as we arrived at the hospital, the paramedics rushed him in through the double doors to the emergency room—taking my heart and my future with them. That was the last I saw of him.
They left me outside those doors. I begged to go in, wailing and screaming, until Wyatt came up behind me, holding me back. I’ll never forget the look in Wyatt’s eyes when he saw the amount of blood on my hands and clothes. His pupils dilated, darkened in fear, as if I had taken the blue hues and erased them myself. My heart shattered at his expression, wishing I could take the pain away from this family.
“Please, save him! Please!” My own piercing voice haunts my mind. I fell to my knees, falling victim to the tsunami of emotions I held at bay, only for them to take over and drown me from the inside out.
Wyatt and Kerry mustered the strength to whisk me away into the waiting room, holding on to me like I deserved it. “It’s okay, Audrey. We got you,” they’d said. Every affirmation might as well have been a bullet straight to my chest.
I sat against a frigid wall instead, unable to get myself into a chair, staring at the dried blood on my hands. Caleb held Grace tightly while she sobbed into his chest. His stare was empty and cold. A lot like how I felt.
Wyatt and Kerry sat incredibly still in their seats, as if any erratic movement would put a final stake into the reality that Donovan’s heart stopped. The stillness in them held a glimmer of hope, because I was doing the same thing. Every breath held was a frayed rope to hold on to—just enough to keep the faith that Donovan would make it. But as I watched the silent tears fall from his brothers’ faces, I blamed myself. I caused pain for this family. I did this.
When a nurse walked in after what seemed like hours, asking for Donovan King’s family, everyone but me shot up out of their seats and rushed over to her. I held my breath, my bottom rooted into the floor. Her back was to me, her voice soft. I clutched onto my heart, expecting the worst.
“He’s gone.” “We couldn’t get him back.” “I’m sorry.”
But those weren’t the words that she uttered. “We were able to reestablish a heartbeat, but we’re preparing him for open-heart surgery.”
Wyatt and Kerry both let out a devastating breath, one that held fear and hope as they cried, clinging to each other. Caleb’s mouth fell agape as Grace embraced him with worry and relief clear on their faces. He was alive. Donovan was alive. My heart stopped the minute I heard his started.
That was sixteen hours ago. Sixteen grueling hours. The bullet entered his back, piercing straight through his heart and exiting out his chest, missing me by mere inches.
The doctors said it was a true miracle he survived. They were right. He was a miracle. My miracle.
Donovan had to go through a meticulous open-heart surgery. Thankfully—god, what a weird thing to say—the bullet that pierced him was a full metal jacket, leaving no fragments in his heart or body. Every hour of surgery went by painfully slow, the hands on the clock moving at a glacial pace. But my miracle boy pulled through after seven hours under the knife.
Since then, he’s been asleep and recovering. I sat by his bed and held his hand, sobbing into the sterile hospital sheets. Donovan’s family and I took turns throughout the night watching over him, waiting for him to wake up.
Pop, Logan, and Tia came as well, bringing coffee and fresh clothes for me. I stood in the hospital shower while Donovan was in surgery, choking back sobs as I scrubbed the dried blood off of my body. Scrubbing off the memory of Kellan’s face before he shot Donovan. Everything after that was a blur.
The only thing I saw was Donovan’s gaze, and the light was fading. Caleb told me later that Kellan died instantly of a shot to the chest, following a hand-to-hand wrestle for the gun. Donovan had saved my life twice now, but Caleb King was catching up.
He and I held each other in the waiting room after Donovan’s surgery, crying into each other’s arms. We had to give police reports when Chief Harper showed up at the hospital, eyes tired and shoulders drooped. Turns out my dad skipped town and was under investigation for accessory to murder. It was all too much. Everything collided and crashed in my brain like an eighteen-car pileup. All I wanted was for Donovan to wake up so I could hear his voice. So I could tell him how sorry I was. Tell him how much I loved him.
Regret ached in my bones, thinking back to the stupid reason I’d left the cabin. Why didn’t I forgive him right away? Why couldn’t I see he was always trying to protect me? Up until the very end, all he did was try to protect me—and look what it cost.
When Kellan stood in my cottage having a mental breakdown, Donovan begged me to leave. And I didn’t. I stayed so that I could face the demon who had sucked the life out of me for nine fucking years. But I should’ve listened. Maybe he could’ve disarmed Kellan in time. I should’ve taken that bullet. Not Donovan.
“Hey, you need anything? You hungry?” Wyatt asks, nudging me out of my dark thoughts with a gentle elbow. We’re sitting on a wooden bench in the hospital courtyard. Kerry sits against the trunk of a sturdy oak tree across from us, his forearms propped on his knees, picking at the aglet on his shoelace. It’s warm out, the afternoon sun draping our skin like a summer blanket.
“No, that’s alright. I’m not hungry,” I reply, staring at the rustling leaves that dance in the breeze from the big oak tree.
Wyatt furrows his brow, crossing his arms as he leans back on the bench. He lets out a sigh. “Audrey, it’s not your fault,” he says, keeping his voice low. I avert my gaze, watching Kerry pick at his laces some more. My jaw ticks as I feel Wyatt’s eyes burning into my profile. It is my fault. I brought Kellan here. If it weren’t for me, Donovan wouldn’t be lying in the hospital bed with a gunshot wound to the heart.
“You can’t blame yourself,” he sighs, sitting straighter on the bench. I scoff and turn to face him.
“What are you in my head or something?” I retort. He chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his tired face. We’re all tired. No one has slept in the past sixteen hours. At least not fully. Kerry stands to his feet and brushes the dirt off the bottom of his jeans as he walks toward us.
“But I do blame myself, Wyatt. The pain I’ve caused your family—” I choke, the words thick in my throat. Kerry places his hand on my shoulder as I look into his blue eyes. Not quite the ocean blue I love, but a comforting blue.
“Hey, don’t talk like that. He’s alive, Audrey. That’s all that matters. We didn’t lose him,” Kerry says with a softness in his expression. He’s right. They’re both right. Donovan’s alive, but the guilt still gnaws at me. I nod and put my face in my hands while Wyatt gently rubs my back.
“You know, we’ve never seen our brother happier since he’s been with you,” Wyatt beams. I look up from my hands to meet his gaze. Also, a comforting blue. Kerry nods in agreement, shoving himself beside me on the small bench. I chuckle as I’m sandwiched between them.
“You’re part of the family now. One of us. Noah too. We love you guys,” Wyatt says softly. A hint of a smirk tugs on my lips. “I thought you were the grumpy one, and he’s the happy sunshine one?” I tease, earning a chuckle from Kerry. A small one from Wyatt, too. “Thanks. I mean it. I love you guys,” I reply, my heart squeezing at the thought that I have a family now, more than just Gran and Pop. I have a family that feels complete.
“I’ve always wanted brothers,” I murmur, smiling down at my feet. Kerry drapes his arm around my shoulder. “Well, you’ve got ‘em now.”
The sweet moment between us breaks as Logan explodes through the doors, stumbling into the courtyard. I jolt in response as his eyes expand in shock, fisting his hair with a subtle upturn curl on his lips.
He’s breathless, panting like he had just ran a marathon. The subtle curl of his lips morphs into a full-blown, ear-to-ear smile.
“He’s awake,” he breathes, his eyes lock on mine.
“And he’s asking for Mouse.”
Grace and Caleb quietly slip out of Donovan’s door as I stand ten feet away, shaking like a leaf. Grace gives me a soft smile with her arms wide open. I meet her halfway, letting her hold me in a deep embrace. Caleb joins in after a beat as Grace and I untangle our arms to pull him in. No words exchanged, just relieving breaths that Donovan is awake…and alive.
“Where’s Wyatt and Kerry?” Grace asks, touching the ends of my hair.
“They’re in the waiting room with everyone else.” I swallow a lump in my throat. “Um, I can wait for them to see him first. I don’t want to intrude?—”
“Audrey,” Caleb sighs, softening his gaze. My chin quivers as I look past Caleb’s shoulder at Donovan’s door.
I don’t want to barge in there without his brothers seeing him first. They’ve already suffered so much, and I don’t want to take that moment away from them. But there’s nothing I want to do more than burst through that door and see him. My heart aches for it. Caleb and Grace look at each other, then back to me.
“He’s asking for you. Only you. Go on. We’ll be with the others,” Caleb says with a soft smile. Grace leans in and kisses my hair, clasping her hand around Caleb’s, leading him down the hall. I approach Donovan’s door, my steps quiet as I grab the handle with a pause.
Take a deep breath, count backward from five.
I pull down on the handle and a whoosh of cold hospital air blows in my face. Donovan turns his head toward me as I walk in, flashing me his best dimpled grin. His eyes shine the deepest of blue, making me weak in the knees. My lip trembles and the stinging comes full force, just one blink away from the tears escaping.
“Hey, Mouse. Did you miss me?”
The wave of tears is here, flowing out of me unrestrained. He’s right in front of me. Breathing. But I’d watched him die. I blink again, praying this isn’t a dream.
Donovan is here.
Only Donovan King would smile after getting shot. His grin stays plastered on his beautiful face as he tilts his head slightly, leaning his head back on the pillow.
“Come here, baby,” he says, with a low, coarse voice. He pats the open space beside him, beckoning me to come sit. A sob escapes me as I run to his side, gently sitting beside him. He takes my hands in his, pulling them to his lips as he kisses my knuckles. He squeezes my hands and I’m fully revived. The second his lips touch my skin, I let go of my inhibitions. He tugs me closer. I hesitate and stiffen my body for a moment, not wanting to hurt him. He tugs me again.
“Kiss me, Audrey. I need your kiss.”
I lean in, pressing the most tender of kisses on his lips. My cries come out harder as he takes his hand and cups my cheek, threading his fingers through my hair. I dot kisses over the entirety of his face. I taste the salt of his tears as I kiss his eyes, wiping them away with my thumb. Our eyes glued to each other. Forest on ocean. The most beautiful pairing.
“I thought I lost you,” I croak. The pad of his thumb strokes my cheekbone as I lean into his palm, melting into his touch.
“You could never lose me, Mouse. I promised you—I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead into mine.
“I watched you die, Donovan. Your heart stopped.” I sigh, shaking my head. The image of the paramedics shocking his body, then hovering over him, pumping into his chest over and over, is a stain behind my eyes. The beep of the flatline plays like a haunting song I can’t shake out of my head.
“Shh. Hey, now,” he whispers. “I’m alright, baby. I’m here.”
“Donovan, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry about everything. I should never have left the cabin that morning.” The words slip out of me like an avalanche, big and frantic. “I should’ve listened to you. I know that now. But goddamn it, Donovan, I love you so much. I love you so much it fucking hurts,” I sob. His hands stay steady on my face, holding me in place as I fall apart.
He sighs, kissing me hard. “I love you, Audrey. So much. Don’t apologize, it’s behind us now.”
“You saved me. Again. You…you came back to me,” I choke. Donovan pulls his face back from mine, taking me in. His touch is electric, sending shockwaves through my veins. He winces as he leans back, my hands immediately gripping his shoulders to ease him onto his pillow. His hospital gown slightly opens near his chest area, exposing his surgical dressing. He takes my hand and carefully places it over his chest where the bullet pierced through.
“You feel this, Mouse? This scar will forever be a reminder that no matter what, I’ll always protect you. I’ll take twenty more bullets to the heart if it means saving you. And I’d come back to you. Every. Time.”
The overwhelming swell in my heart overtakes me. Our journey together hasn’t been easy, but I don’t see it happening any other way. We are tethered to each other, forever connected. I no longer have doubts. As for my fears? They’ll come back. But they won’t control me anymore. Donovan’s love heals me from the innermost part of my soul. His love is so big, it’s worked its magic on me, shooting its light through my fingertips.
I feel the steady thud of his heart under my hand, the best feeling in the world. So alive and beating strong. For me. For us. Donovan seems so at peace despite the trauma he’s just endured. No lines between his brow, no tension in his face. Maybe it’s the pain medication he’s on. The oceans in his eyes are calm, not even a hint of a wave. He holds my gaze so intimately, and maybe it’s from everything that’s happened, but I still have to ask.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I whisper, gently stroking my thumb against his chest. He smiles at me softly, keeping his hand over mine that rests on his heart.
“Your mom called you her honey tulip, you know?” he murmurs. My breath hitches, bewildered that Donovan knows the name my mother called me while in the womb. Gran had been the one who shared that detail with me when I was a little girl, and from that day on, tulips were my favorite flower.
“How do you know that? Did Pop tell you?” I’m not even sure if Pop knew that was what my mother called me. Gran told me she’d watched my mother sit in a rocking chair, whispering honey tulip into her belly, prodding for me to kick her hand.
“Wren told me. And she’s amazing, Mouse. She’s so beautiful, just like you,” he whispers groggily, his eyes slowly drooping.
Wren? My mother told him?
My mind races, trying to piece together what Donovan just said. It must be the pain medication. He’s drugged up from surgery and doesn’t know what he’s saying.
“I promise you, Mouse. She told me…” he drawls, as if to reassure me. Even on medication, this man still reads my mind better than anyone else.
I open my mouth to say something, but stop when I see Donovan drifting off to sleep as the steady beep of the heart monitor lulls him. I push his hair back gently away from his face.
I carefully lay myself down next to him, curling up in a tiny sliver of space. I don’t mind the discomfort, because as I drift off with my hand pressed to Donovan’s beating heart, it’s my mom’s beautiful face I see before sleep takes me.