2
Trent
The world returns slowly, as if I’m drifting upward through deep water, the surface just ahead but the fog is clinging tight, ready to drag me under again.
My eyes stay closed, too heavy to lift, but sound filters in—wheels squeaking, footsteps shifting around me, the low murmur of voices. At first, they’re distant, blurred, impossible to catch.
Then, through the haze a phrase slips through.
“…surgery was a success…”
Relief should come, but it doesn’t. My mind is too thick with fog to hold onto it. What I cling to instead is the next voice—softer, familiar, tugging at me even through the haze.
Aubrey.
“Will he be okay?”
I reach for the reply, desperate to catch it, but it slips into static before I can grasp the words. Everything blurs when I try to focus, but her voice lingers. The worry threaded through it is sharp enough to cut through everything else.
Something warm closes around my hand, her fingers weaving through mine, steady and sure.
A moment later her touch slides through my hair, gentle and unhurried, and I stay perfectly still, afraid the comfort might vanish if I move.
The simple motion eases an ache I hadn’t known was there until it starts to fade.
The fog presses in again, heavier now, but I sink into it with her voice trailing after me, soft and lingering like smoke in the dark.
“You’re not alone. I’m right here.”
Her words follow me into the dark, the only thing that cuts through the fog. And as I finally let go, my last thought is of her—of Aubrey, and the realization that she stayed.
I’ve been awake for hours, just lying here, staring at her. She looks so peaceful—so beautiful—and the fact that she’s here, asleep in the chair right next to me, has my head spinning.
I don’t deserve her sympathy, her kindness.
And yet, she’s still here, offering it to me freely.
That’s just who Aubrey is. She’s like sunlight—warm, effortless, illuminating everything she touches.
You can’t help but smile when she’s around.
And lying this close to her, all I want is to reach out and hold her, just to feel that light for myself.
When I first came to, everything felt disconnected. I was heavy, groggy, floating in and out of awareness. The anesthesia still had its grip on me, making everything hazy and weightless—until I heard her voice. And just like that, everything in me stilled. Her voice grounded me. Anchored me.
It confirmed everything I already knew to be true.
That walking away from her was the biggest mistake of my life and breaking her heart is something I will always regret.
I was just too scared to admit how I really felt.
To her.
To myself.
And I let that fear control me.
I never really understood what love was supposed to look like.
I didn’t grow up around it. My parents relationship was a mess—my dad cheating, my mom trying to hold everything together, both of them pretending things were fine when they clearly weren’t.
By the time they divorced, and he disappeared for good, I’d already decided love just wasn’t something people like us got right.
Everyone always said I was just like him—looked like him, talked like him, moved like him.
After a while, it got stuck in my head. If he couldn’t stay loyal or build anything healthy, why would I be any different?
Some people had good relationships, the kind that actually lasted. I just wasn’t one of them.
So I made my life simple. Controlled. One night. Just sex. No strings, no expectations, no chance of disappointing anyone or turning into the kind of man I didn’t want to become. It was easier that way—clean, predictable, no feelings to get tangled in.
And it worked.
At least until Aubrey.
From the start, I couldn’t stay away. I told myself I just needed one night—to get her out of my system.
But once I had her, I wanted more. Needed more.
I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping those rules in place, by protecting us both.
But the more we ended up together, the more those lines blurred.
The more she slipped past every wall I’d built.
After a year of playing by my rules, she finally bared her soul to me—told me she wanted more.
That she felt more. And I did exactly what I’d always feared I would.
I shut down. I panicked. And instead of facing what I felt, I pushed her away.
Told her she was a mistake and that I regretted all of it.
Every word was a lie.
And every one of them broke her a little more than the last.
To make matters worse, she’s my best friend’s little sister, which makes avoiding her—and her family—almost impossible. Yet somehow, she’s managed to make it look effortless. But right now, for the first time in months, there’s a flicker of hope sparking to life inside me.
She ran to my bedside the moment she heard about my accident. She stayed, making sure I wasn’t alone when I woke up from surgery—even though she had no reason to. That alone speaks louder than words. It doesn’t matter that she’s with someone else now.
She still cares.
I can feel it.
And I’ll be damned if I let her slip through my fingers again.
Aubrey doesn’t know it yet, but she’s mine.
She always has been.
The sound of the door creaking open snaps me back to the present. I catch a glimpse of Kade and Brandon stepping into the room just before I squeeze my eyes shut, feigning sleep.
With my attention no longer fixed on Aubrey, the dull ache in my leg sharpens into a deep, throbbing pain. I grit my teeth, trying to breathe through it, willing it to fade.
I focus on the voices around me, just in time to hear Aubrey speak—softly, like she’s afraid of waking me.
“I didn’t want him waking up from surgery alone,” she murmurs. “I guess I just ended up crashing out.”
I stay quiet a little longer, listening to their voices in the background. But the pain in my leg intensifies—burning, relentless—until I can't hold it in anymore. A low groan escapes me.
“Jesus…”
Realizing I said it out loud, I quickly feign grogginess and mumble, “You guys wanna keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep here.”
The room falls silent for a beat.
Kade shakes his head with a small, relieved laugh. “Glad to see your sense of humor survived the anesthesia.”
I huff a tired laugh and finally open my eyes, scanning the room until they land on Aubrey. She’s slouched in the corner chair, shadows under her eyes, exhaustion written across her face like a second skin.
Our eyes meet, and I offer a quiet, sincere smile. “Thanks for staying.”
Her eyes widen for a moment, surprised—like she didn’t expect me to know. She glances around, suddenly unsure, flicking her gaze between me and Kade before finally whispering, “Of course.”
It’s soft, but there’s a hesitation in it—wary, uncertain. And somehow, it carries more weight than I expected.
I’m under no illusion that winning Aubrey back will be anything but easy. She’s dating Justin now, which… yeah, isn’t exactly ideal. But even if she weren’t, I know I’ve got a lot to answer for. A lot to fix.
I broke something between us—her trust, her faith in me—and that doesn’t just get handed back. I have to earn it. I have to show her that I’m not the same guy who let her down. That I’m ready now—to fight for her, to give her everything.
No matter how long it takes, no matter how many walls she puts up… I’ll climb every one of them. I’ll take every hit.
Because I’m not walking away this time.