Chapter 8 Tessa
TESSA
The chair outside Ryan's hospital room was possibly the most uncomfortable piece of furniture Tessa had ever encountered. The plastic seat was too hard, the backrest was at the wrong angle, and there was a mysterious stain on the armrest that she was trying very hard not to think about.
But none of that mattered. She would have sat on a bed of nails if it meant being close to Ryan right now.
Only one person could go into his room at a time. Hospital policy, the nurse had explained with an apologetic smile. Something about monitoring equipment, limited space, and infection control protocols that Tessa had barely listened to because all she could think about was Ryan lying in that bed.
Dr. Simons had come out just before Glory Gains arrived to have her escorted to New York, where Marcus would keep her safe along with Sally Lane and Jackie's daughter, Haley. Jackie had stopped to talk to them, her voice low and professional despite the exhaustion written across her face.
"Ryan's going to be out for a while," she'd said, and when Mitch had started to look alarmed, she'd quickly added, "Which is actually good.
His body needs time to recover from the blood loss and the trauma of surgery.
We've got him on a continuous morphine drip for pain management, and the anesthesia they used during the operation will take several hours to fully metabolize.
Add in the sedatives to keep him calm while his body heals, and we're looking at him being unconscious for at least twelve to eighteen hours. Maybe longer."
"Is that safe?" Lori had asked, her hand gripping Mitch's arm. "Keeping him sedated that long?"
"Safer than the alternative," Jackie had assured her. "If he woke up too soon, he'd be in significant pain and might inadvertently tear his stitches again. The sedation gives his body the best chance to start healing properly. Trust me, this is exactly what we want right now."
That had been hours ago. Jackie was long gone, whisked away by Glory to the safety of Marcus's New York operation. And Tessa had been sitting in this terrible chair ever since, taking turns with Mitch to sit with Ryan while the other kept watch in the hallway.
The door opened, and Mitch emerged. His face was drawn with exhaustion, his clothes still stained with Ryan's blood, his hair standing up in odd directions from running his hands through it repeatedly.
But his eyes were clearer than they'd been when they'd first arrived at the hospital, no longer quite so wild with panic.
"Do you want to sit with him for a while?" Mitch asked quietly. "I could use some coffee, and Lori's fallen asleep in the waiting room. I don't want to wake her."
"Yes," Tessa said immediately, standing up so fast the plastic chair scraped loudly against the linoleum floor. "Yes, please."
Mitch managed a small smile. "Go on then. Take your time."
Tessa slipped past him and into Ryan's room, the door closing softly behind her with a pneumatic hiss.
The sight of Ryan lying in the hospital bed made her breath catch in her throat.
He looked so still. So pale. There were machines on either side of him, their screens displaying numbers and graphs that Tessa couldn't interpret.
An IV stand held multiple bags of fluid that dripped steadily into the line inserted in his arm.
Another tube ran to an oxygen monitor clipped to his finger.
Wires snaked from beneath the hospital gown to connect to the heart monitor, which beeped in a steady rhythm that was somehow both reassuring and terrifying.
This was real. Ryan had nearly died. Could still die if something went wrong, if an infection set in, if his body couldn't handle the trauma.
Tessa fought back the tears that threatened to spill over and carefully made her way to the chair beside his bed.
It was slightly more comfortable than the one in the hallway, padded with worn vinyl that stuck to her skin.
She sat down gingerly, as if sudden movement might somehow disturb the fragile peace of the room.
For a long moment, she just looked at him.
Studied his face in a way she'd never allowed herself to do when he was awake and might catch her staring.
The strong line of his jaw, softened now by sleep and medication.
The slight curl to his dark hair where it fell across his forehead.
The way his chest rose and fell with each breath, steady and even despite everything.
Tentatively, Tessa reached out and placed her hand on his arm. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and she could feel his pulse beating steadily. Alive. He was alive.
"Hey," she said softly, even though she knew he couldn't hear her. "It's me. Tessa. I don't know if you can hear anything when you're this out of it, but I figured I should talk to you anyway. Just in case."
The machines beeped in their quiet rhythm. The IV dripped. Ryan's chest rose and fell.
Tessa took a shaky breath and continued. "I need to apologize. For what I said in the park. For how I acted. For pushing you away when you were being honest and brave and everything I should have been but wasn't."
Her throat tightened, making it harder to get the words out. But she forced herself to keep going.
"I was scared, Ryan. I'm still scared, if I'm being honest. I've spent so long guarding my heart, guarding Maggie's happiness, that it's become this automatic reflex. Someone gets too close, shows they care too much, and I push them away before they can hurt us. Before they can leave, as Mark did."
A tear dropped onto Ryan's arm, leaving a small wet spot on his skin. Tessa realized she was crying and quickly swiped at her eyes with her free hand.
"But that's not fair to you," she whispered.
"You're not Mark. You've never been Mark.
And I know that, I do. But I was so busy protecting myself and Maggie from something that might happen that I couldn't see what was right in front of me.
Someone who genuinely cared. Someone who saw past all my walls and liked what he found anyway. "
She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the metal railing of the hospital bed.
"I know it's probably too late now. I know I messed everything up.
You made yourself vulnerable, told me how you felt, and I basically told you I didn't trust you.
That I thought you'd hurt my daughter the way her father did.
That was cruel, Ryan. I was cruel. And I'm so, so sorry. "
More tears fell, sliding down her cheeks and dripping onto the sterile white sheets. Tessa didn't bother wiping them away this time.
"I was the one at fault," she continued, her voice breaking. "I was the one who pushed you away. Not because of anything you did, but because I was scared. Terrified, really. Of feeling this much. Of wanting this much. Of needing someone the way I've started to need you."
She lifted her head and looked at his face again, peaceful in sleep.
"I don't expect you to forgive me. I don't even expect you to want to try again after everything I said.
But I needed you to know. I needed to tell you that I'm sorry.
That I was wrong. That you deserved so much better than what I gave you in that park. "
Tessa sighed and settled back in the chair, though she kept her hand on Ryan's arm. The contact felt important somehow. A connection. Proof that he was real, alive, and here.
The exhaustion of the past few days was starting to catch up with her. Her head ached where she'd hit it, a dull throb behind the stitches in her forehead. Her body felt heavy, like someone had filled her veins with sand instead of blood. Her eyelids kept trying to drift closed.
She should probably go back to the waiting room. Let Mitch come back in. Get some real rest instead of whatever half-sleep she'd get in this chair.
But she couldn't make herself move. Couldn't make herself let go of Ryan's arm.
"Just a few more minutes," she mumbled to herself, leaning forward to rest her arms on the edge of the bed. "Then I'll go."
Her eyes drifted closed. Just for a second. Just to rest them.
But seconds turned to minutes, and Tessa felt herself slipping, teetering on that strange border between waking and dreaming where thoughts become untethered, and reality bends.
A tune hummed through her mind. Soft and lilting, almost wistful. She knew that tune. Where did she know that tune from?
The question nagged at her even as she drifted deeper, her breathing evening out to match Ryan's. Where had she heard it? Recently, she thought. In the past few days. Someone had been humming it.
No, not in the past few days. Before that. Before the kidnapping. Before coming to Nantucket.
A courtroom. The melody had come from a courtroom.
But not one where she'd been working. One where she'd been attending and supporting a loved one who wasn’t on trial but testifying.
The tune played on in her head, growing louder, more insistent. And suddenly, with the clarity that sometimes comes in dreams, Tessa knew exactly where she'd heard it.
The person on trial had been humming it when they were taken out of the courtroom. Tessa had heard it when she’d gotten up and walked close by the person being led away as she went to talk to the judge presiding over the case.
"No!" Tessa’s head shot up. Her eyes flew open as the pieces clicked into place with horrifying certainty. Her heart pounded as she reached for her phone, needing to confirm, needing to look up some information right now before the memory slipped away.
But her pockets were empty. Her phone. Where was her phone? It had been in her purse, which she’d dropped when she’d been kidnapped. She didn't have it anymore.
"Drat," Tessa muttered, already standing. She needed to look this up. Needed to confirm her suspicion. If she was right, if this was who she thought it was...