43. Sage
SAGE
Sunlight spills through the window, and for one disorienting second, I have no idea where I am.
Then pain throbs behind my eyes, and the memories come rushing back. The ride with Taryn. The calf. Falling. The hospital. Holden.
The air rushes out of my lungs.
Holden.
For a terrifying second, I wonder if I dreamed the whole thing. The apology. The way he looked at me. The things he said.
I glance toward the chair beside my bed. It’s empty.
Before disappointment can settle too heavily in my stomach, movement by the window catches my eye.
Mia lowers the magazine she’s been reading, relief flashing across her face. “Good. You’re awake.”
I groan softly. “My head feels terrible.”
“That’s because you gave yourself a concussion.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she says cheerfully.
I close my eyes, and for a few moments the room falls quiet.
When Mia speaks again, her voice is softer, threaded with concern. “How are you doing?”
I don’t think she’s talking about my head.
A sigh slips out of me. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Yeah. I don’t blame you.”
I stare at the ceiling. “Holden came back.” The words still feel surreal.
Mia snorts. “Yeah. I heard. Pretty sure half the county knows by now.”
Despite myself, I smile. Then his words replay in my mind.
If Milan is what you want, I’ll go there too.
A strange mix of warmth and sadness settles in my chest. He still doesn’t know. He came all this way not knowing whether I’d choose Milan, go back to New York, or want something entirely different.
Meanwhile, I’d already chosen.
“What are you thinking?” Mia asks.
I turn toward her. “That he’s an idiot.”
She bursts out laughing.
A smile tugs at my lips, and without thinking, I shake my head at her. The motion makes it pound. “Ow.”
She sobers, her eyes widening. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I slide the sheet covering me between my fingers. “He offered to follow me anywhere.”
Her eyes widen. “And?”
I stare through the window at the distant mountains. “And he still thinks I’m leaving.”
There’s a knock at the door, but it swings open before I can respond. My pulse leaps, then stalls as Mom walks in, not Holden. Dad follows a step behind her, with Graham bringing up the rear.
The knot that forms in my stomach isn’t anxiety. It’s exhaustion. Why is he still here?
“Mia,” he says in that familiar dismissive tone that grates on every nerve I have.
She levels an unimpressed stare. “Graham.”
Mom approaches my bed. “How are you feeling?” Unlike Mia, she’s only asking about my head.
“Like I fell down a ditch.”
Irritation flickers across her face. “Sage.”
Humor has never been one of her strengths. Dad’s either.
I sigh, sinking into the pillow behind me. “My head hurts.”
Her shoulders loosen the slightest bit. “There we go,” she says, as if I’m finally speaking a language she understands.
Dad sits in the chair Holden occupied last night. Graham remains standing. Naturally. Wouldn’t want to ruin the vibe.
My mother folds her hands together. “We were hoping to talk.”
I nearly laugh. Of course they were.
Mia stands and moves to the other side of my bed. “Do you really think this is a good time for that?”
I love that she’s trying to protect me, but I need to fight my own battles.
I smile up at her. “That’s okay. I’d rather get this over with.”
She studies me carefully, then squeezes my hand. “I’ll go get coffee.”
Once the door has closed behind her, I focus on Mom. “Let me guess. You want to talk about Milan.”
She’s halfway through explaining all the reasons I’m making a mistake when I hold up a hand. A glance passes between all three of them, which tells me everything I need to know.
Graham steps forward. “It’s not too late,” he says. “The opportunity is still available.”
I close my eyes and blow out a breath. When I look at him again, he’s watching me, wearing an expression I’ve seen a thousand times. Patient, reasonable, certain he knows best.
I stare at him, then at my parents. Not one of them has asked me what I want.
Mom leans forward. “I understand you’re emotional right now. But once you’ve had some time to recover, you’ll see this more clearly.”
I should have known what she’d say.
The familiar pressure I expect in my chest doesn’t appear. Maybe I’m too tired. Or maybe I’m finally done caring what they think.
“I got a concussion,” I say evenly. “I didn’t lose my personality.”
Dad grunts. “That’s not what your mom meant.”
The look I give him must reveal what I’m thinking, because he looks away first.
Graham clears his throat. “The residency would change everything.”
I study him for a second. Patient, reasonable, certain he knows best. The same Graham I’ve known for years.
“Why do you care so much?”
He frowns. “What?”
“About Milan. About what I do next.” I hold his gaze. “You don’t love me. You don’t want me back, and in case I wasn’t clear, I definitely don’t want you back. So why do you care?”
A flush creeps up his neck. “Because you’re better than this.”
Mom nods. “He’s right.”
I let out a slow breath, then another. “You mean you’re better than this. If I become an international success, you get to tell everyone you discovered me. That you mentored me. That I got there because of you.”
“That’s not true. I care about you.”
I glance between him and my parents. “You all keep talking about my career as if that’s the only thing that matters.”
Dad exhales. “No one is saying that.”
I raise my brows. “You’ve been saying it my entire life.”
Mom folds her arms. “We may not have started out supporting you in chasing this photography dream. But once you proved your talent—”
“No.” The word comes out softer than I expect. “You only encouraged me after I found success. After Graham started molding me into something you saw as acceptable.”
Mom’s expression tightens. Dad looks away. Interesting. Maybe that one hit closer to home than I intended.
Graham steps forward. “You’re being unfair.”
“No. I’m finally being honest.”
A knock sounds at the door, and a second later, it eases open and Holden steps inside. He takes in my parents and Graham arrayed around my bed, then his eyes find mine.
“Mia told me you were awake.”
Warmth curls through my chest at the way he’s looking at me, as if no one else is in the room but us.
“I’m okay.” I glance at my parents and Graham. “Just clearing a few things up.”
His mouth twitches, and he nods. He doesn’t move closer or try to intervene, just leans against the wall, arms crossed, and watches as if he knows I’ve got this handled.
Letting out a breath, I refocus on the three people who’ve gone too long without hearing what I have to say.
“You’ve all spent years more concerned with what my life says about you than with what it means to me.” I sit up a little straighter, ignoring the fresh throb behind my eyes. “But there seems to be something all of you are missing.”
I pause for a beat, suddenly all too aware of Holden’s presence. “You keep talking like there’s still a decision to be made.”
“Sage—” Dad starts.
“But I’ve already made it.”
Holden shifts against the wall, but I can’t bring myself to look at him yet. “I already turned down the residency offer.”
Graham blinks. “What?”
“I officially turned it down. I’m taking on a permanent role at Wild Ember. I’m staying here.”
My words hang in the air, even as the tension I’ve been holding on to for far too long uncoils.
Mom and Dad appear genuinely stunned. Graham frowns, confused. “What kind of position?”
The question makes me smile. “Director of photography.”
Finally, I let myself look at Holden. He’s staring at me with an intensity that makes my heart stumble. Then his eyes close, and he exhales heavily.
My heart aches, but I turn back to my parents and Graham. The moment Graham opens his mouth to say something, I raise a hand to stop him. “This isn’t a debate,” I tell him. “And I’d like it if you’d leave now.”
Holden pushes away from the wall and opens the door, a hint of a smile touching his lips.
Graham’s nostrils flare, but with a shake of his head, he brushes an imaginary speck off his shirt and marches out.
I turn my attention to my parents.
“Sage—” Dad starts.
I give my head a tiny shake. It’s still enough to cause a stab of pain, but it eases quickly.
“I need you to leave too,” I tell them. “I’d like to think you came here because you genuinely care that I was injured, and if that’s the case, I appreciate it. But as you can see, I’m fine.” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “So I think you should go back to New York.”
He adjusts his suit jacket. “I’ll see you back there when you come to your senses.” Turning to Mom, he tips his head toward the door. “Come on, Victoria.”
He strides across the room, not looking at Holden as he passes.
Mom follows him, but her footsteps slow halfway to the door, and she stops and turns to me. She shakes her head, her lips pressed together. “I can’t pretend to understand what’s going on in your head, Sage. I think you’re making a mistake. But…”
I hold her gaze but don’t say anything.
She lets out a quiet breath. “You’ve clearly made up your mind. And…” Her expression softens slightly. “Well, anyway, I’ll call you.”
Before I can do more than nod, she sweeps out the door.
Holden closes it behind her, then faces me again. “Are you okay?”
I’m not sure how to answer. My head is pounding and exhaustion is starting to drag at me, but otherwise, physically, I’m okay.
Emotionally? Absolutely not. So I don’t bother answering.
Instead, I study him, noting the scruff on his chin and the dark circles around his eyes. “Have you been here the whole time?”
He dips his head. “Nurse kicked me out of your room for a while. And Mia took over this morning so I could grab a coffee.”
His voice is rough with exhaustion, and my heart flips.
“I can leave if you want,” he says.
“No,” I reply before I can overthink it.
Relief flickers across his face, his throat working as he swallows.
God, I missed him.
But rather than move closer, he remains standing beside the door as if he isn’t sure whether he belongs near me.
That hurts. A part of me wants him to close the distance. The other part still remembers how devastated I felt when he left.
“Why did you come back, Holden?”
He finally takes a step toward me. “Do you remember what I told you last night?”
“I remember.” I wet my lips, willing my heart not to race. “But would you have come back if I hadn’t gotten hurt?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Sage… I didn’t know you were in the hospital until I made it back to Wild Ember.”
I let out a long, quiet breath. “You really came back before you knew?”
“Yeah.”
“I was angry at you,” I admit softly.
“You should’ve been.”
A lump forms in my throat. “I kept thinking maybe I imagined everything between us.”
Pain flashes across his face. “You didn’t.”
I look down at the blanket twisted loosely in my hands. “You left.”
Holden goes still. “I know.”
“And part of me keeps thinking…” I swallow carefully. “What happens the next time things get hard?”
He flinches, and for one awful second, I wish I could take the words back. But I have to say it, or there’s no way this could work.
“I don’t know how to trust that you won’t leave again,” I whisper.
He doesn’t rush to answer. Eventually, he nods. “I get that.”
I thought he’d argue, convince me I’m wrong to worry about it.
Instead, he steps up to the side of the bed. “I spent a long time convincing myself that leaving first hurt less,” he says quietly. “And somewhere along the line, I stopped noticing how much I was hurting the people around me.”
The honesty in his voice cuts straight through me. Now that I know more about what happened with his mother, everything makes painful sense. But understanding him doesn’t magically erase what happened.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says.
“I know.” That’s what makes this whole thing so awful.
He exhales, then lowers himself into the chair beside my bed. Closer this time. Still not touching, but near. “So, Director of photography.”
I bite my bottom lip. “I may have improvised the title.”
His laugh comes out rough. “It fits.”
“I didn’t stay for you.” The words tumble out in a rush.
He searches my face, and I’m worried I hurt him. But he just nods slowly. “I know.”
“I stayed because I love it here,” I admit. “The ranch. The work. Your family.” My voice wavers. “I love who I am here.”
He drags a hand across his jaw, something glittering in his eyes. Maybe relief. Or pride. Maybe both. Like hearing that matters more than if I’d said I stayed for him. Maybe it does. He’s already proven he doesn’t want me sacrificing my dreams for him.
A nurse steps into the room carrying a small cup of medication. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Holden stands and backs up to give her space.
“If your symptoms keep improving, there’s a good chance you’ll be discharged tomorrow,” she tells me as she works. “But once you’re home, you shouldn’t be alone. Do you have someone who can stay with you for a couple of days?”
I blink, considering. I can’t stay at my cabin alone. I’m still too raw to ask Holden to stay with me.
He must see the thought cross my face because he dips his head. But when his eyes meet mine again, there’s only understanding in them.
“I might stay with Mia for a few days,” I admit.
“Okay.”
My answer doesn’t surprise him, which somehow hurts and reassures me at the same time.
When the nurse is gone, he returns to his chair.
I study him beside me. Exhausted. Guarded. Trying so hard to stay steady. And beneath all the hurt sitting between us, hope flickers quietly to life.
For the first time since he left, closing the distance between us feels possible.