Chapter 28
COLE
Waking up feels like dragging myself out of wet concrete. My body is heavy, every breath stiff, ribs protesting even the smallest movement. There’s a ringing in my ears, and for a second, I can’t tell if the darkness behind my eyelids is real or just the aftermath of the explosion.
I force my eyes open.
White ceiling, dim hospital lights, sterile air that stings the back of my throat.
I blink until my vision sharpens, and the world settles into place around me.
The first thing I do is check my hands, then my legs.
They’re intact. Sore as hell, bruised, wrapped in bandages in a few places, but intact.
I’m alive. Thank God.
What about Ella? What happened to her? Is she okay?
I remember pulling us both out of the water after the explosion, but nothing much after that. And then I hear it—the sound that rips through me harder than any blast.
A soft groan, slight shift of blankets, someone adjusting their pillow on the other side of the curtain dividing the room.
Ella.
Even before I can sit up, my heart is already moving toward her.
“Easy,” a nurse murmurs as she steps into view, touching my shoulder before I can push myself upright. “You’ve been in and out for the last few hours. Don’t rush.”
“Ella,” I rasp out. “Is she—“
“She’s okay,” the nurse says gently. “Bruised, exhausted, but okay. She’s been awake on and off. She’s asked about you as well.”
That alone nearly knocks the breath out of me.
I turn toward the curtain, wanting to tear it down, needing to see her face, needing proof she’s really here. But the nurse presses a firm hand to my shoulder.
“Mr. Dawson, you need to stay still,” she warns gently. “You took a good hit to the head, and your oxygen levels were low when they brought you in. Just breathe.”
“I just… I need to see her,” I rasp, the words scraping out of me. “Please.”
The nurse pauses, eyes softening in a way that tells me she’s either a mother, an older sister, or just a damn good human being. She exhales slowly, glancing toward the door as if making sure she won’t get scolded for what she’s about to do.
“Only for a moment,” she whispers.
She reaches for the curtain, fingers hooking into the fabric.
Then she drags it back a few inches, just enough for me to see Ella lying on her side, IV in her arm, hair messy against the pillow, breathing slow and steady.
Her cheek has a small cut. Her forehead is bruised.
But she’s alive. She’s alive and here. Relief slams into my chest so hard I have to grip the bedrails.
Ella shifts a little, like she senses something. The nurse quickly pulls the curtain shut again, giving me a look that’s both stern and soft.
“There,” she murmurs. “Now you know she’s okay. But you need to rest if you want to be out of here anytime soon.”
My throat closes. “Thank you,” I manage, the words rough and honest.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” she says, patting my arm before checking the monitors again. “Try to relax. The worst is over. Your family is on their way up,” she adds, like that’s supposed to prepare me for the tidal wave about to hit.
And I guess it does, because less than a minute later, the door bursts open like it’s being held back by stampeding bulls.
The Morgans. All of them.
Zane, Jace, Beck—leading the pack like they’re storming a battlefield. Ava with baby Luella on her hip, Quinn with Oliver swaddled in a blanket, and Tessa steadying Daisy. Hank is behind them all, towering and grim but with a softness in his eyes I’ve learned means he’s scared.
And behind them, trying her damned best not to cry, my mother.
Flora Dawson may be sweet, may bake cinnamon rolls like she’s feeding angels, but right now she’s a storm wrapped in a cardigan.
“Oh, my baby,” she chokes out, rushing past the brothers and getting to me first. She cups my face like she’s checking each feature for damage. “You scared me half to death. Do you hear me? Half to death.”
“I’m okay, Mom,” I whisper, even though I’m not sure that’s entirely true.
“You were blown up!” she snaps. “There’s no version of that where a mother is calm.”
I almost smile, but the ache in my ribs makes it fade fast.
Aria slips through the crowd then moves straight to my bedside. She climbs onto the chair next to me, her little hand sliding into mine without hesitation.
“Daddy,” she whispers, eyes huge and filled with tears. “You scared me.”
I bring her hand to my lips. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Miss Ella, too.” Her chin trembles. “Is she okay?”
“She will be,” I promise her. “She’s strong.”
“Are you going to hug her?” she asks gently. “When they let you?”
The question lands with a weight I can’t quite hold up.
“Yeah,” I breathe. “I am.”
Aria leans closer, resting her head on my uninjured shoulder. “Good. Because she loves you.”
The room goes silent. I swallow thickly. “How do you know?”
“Because I asked her if she was scared,” Aria murmurs, “and she said she was, but she wasn’t scared for herself. She was scared for you.”
And that… that is almost too much.
Behind my mother, the Morgan brothers linger near the foot of the bed—stiff backs, clenched jaws, the kind of restless anger that doesn’t know where to go now that the danger is gone.
Before any of them can speak, the guilt that’s been sitting on my chest since the second I woke up finally breaks loose.
“This is on me,” I say quietly.
All their heads snap toward me.
“I brought Toby and Calista into your lives. I brought the mess, the danger. I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve protected her… all of you.” My throat turns raw. “I’m sorry.”
Zane steps forward first, eyes narrowing—not in anger but disbelief. “Cole. No.”
“Yes,” I insist. “If it weren’t for me—“
“Hey.” Jace’s voice cuts in, steady and sharp like steel. “Don’t you dare take the blame for their choices. Toby was a snake long before he turned on you, and Calista was a damn hurricane looking for a place to destroy. That isn’t your burden.”
Beck shakes his head, arms crossed, but his expression softens. “If anything, we should be apologizing to you. We pushed you away, blamed you for things that were never your fault.”
Zane steps closer until he’s right beside my bed, his voice low. “You saved our sister’s life, and your own. You think we’re going to sit here and let you carry guilt on top of that?”
Jace huffs a rough laugh. “We might’ve been born stubborn, but we aren’t stupid.”
Beck adds quietly, “You’re family now, Cole. Whether you like it or not.”
Something in my chest cracks at that—something tight, something old.
Mom sniffles behind me. “Listen to them,” she sniffs, wiping her eyes. “They love Ella. They love Aria. And they love you too. Even if they grunt more than they talk.”
Zane grunts. Jace grunts louder, like it’s a competition. Beck rolls his eyes.
And for the first time since waking up, I almost laugh.
Hank finally comes forward, his firm hand landing on my shoulder. “You didn’t fail my girl. You fought for her. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Zane clears his throat first, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dawson, about what happened. Look, man… I’m sorry.”
Jace steps up next, arms crossed, eyes lowered. “We were out of line. We thought we were protecting her, but… we made everything worse.”
Beck blows out a long breath. “You didn’t deserve any of what we threw at you. And after what you did out there… saving her like that… saving both of you…” His voice cracks a little, and he looks away. “Thank you.”
I stare at them—these men who could level a building with their hands, who could tear someone apart for looking at their sister wrong. And here they are, apologizing to me.
“I get it,” I tell them quietly. “She’s your baby sister. You were scared. So was I.”
It’s the truth. No ego. No pride. Just honesty.
It takes everything in me not to look toward the curtain like a starving man looking at food. The room buzzes with relief and worry and too many bodies in too small a space, and all I want, all I can think about, is Ella.
“Can we see her?” Ava asks the nurse.
She jumps in before anyone else can. “One at a time. Let her rest a bit longer.”
Everyone takes turns checking in on Ella.
My mother squeezes my hand. “I’m so glad you’re safe, Cole. But I swear, if I ever see Calista ever again—“
“About that,” Zane interrupts, eyes bright with satisfaction. “They got them.”
“Got who?” I ask.
“Toby and Calista,” Jace says. “They were trying to cross into Mexico, but they didn’t make it far.”
“Ryder caught them,” Beck adds, a hint of pride slipping through his usual calm. “Dragged their asses to the FBI himself.”
Of course, it was Ryder. The ghost brother. The one who appears when things go to hell and disappears just as fast. I’ve never met him, but I’m grateful for him right now.
“They’ll be going away for a long time,” Hank affirms. “Attempted murder, arson, kidnapping—hell, they’ll have a new charge added before lunch.”
Mom makes a furious sound. “Good. Good. I hope they rot in prison.”
“We will make sure of it,” Hank promises her.
The nurse returns then, telling everyone we need more rest, and one by one the Morgans file out. Hank pats my foot on his way—silent but solid. Quinn gives me a small smile, Ava blows a kiss at the curtain separating Ella and me. Even Daisy waves shyly before leaving.
Mom kisses my forehead, whispering she’ll bring me some soup tomorrow morning. Aria stays until the nurse insists she needs sleep, too, and I kiss her cheek before she goes.
The room finally empties, quiet settling over everything. The curtain stays closed, but now that I’m alone, my body wants to move—not for me, but for her.
I wait until the hall is quiet, the last nurse rounds the corner, and I’m certain no one is coming back in.
Then I push myself gently out of the bed. My ribs ache, shoulder throbs, and legs protest with every step, but I make it across the small space anyway. I slide my fingers around the curtain and pull it back.
She’s lying on her side, hair pushed over her shoulder, bruises faint under the soft glow of the night light. She’s breathing evenly. Peacefully. Her arm is wrapped loosely around a pillow like she’s reaching for something she can’t quite grab.
My heart twists. I’m at her bedside before I realize I’ve moved.
“Ella,” I whisper.
She doesn’t wake. I glance at the door, then at her again. Screw it.
I ease myself onto the edge of her bed, slow and careful, fitting myself behind her the way my body has wanted to since I opened my eyes. She stirs as the mattress dips, her breath catching for a second, but then she relaxes, like she’s been waiting for this.
I tuck an arm around her waist. She sighs, soft and sleepy, leaning back into me like she’s done it a thousand times, and that’s how I know I’m not going anywhere.
Not tonight. Not ever.
“Sleep, sweetheart,” I whisper against her hair. “I’ve got you.”
Her fingers curl around mine, and in the quiet, with her heartbeat steady against my chest, I let my eyes close again—not because I’m weak or hurting or tired.
But because she’s here. Alive. Safe. Mine.
And that’s enough to let the world fade for a little while.