Chapter 45
FORTY-FIVE | TARYN
The scent of chemicals hanging heavy in the air drifts into my nose.
Why does it burn?
The sterile aroma of antiseptics penetrates the heavy fog in my head with its potency. My chest rises and falls while darkness blankets my vision. The clinical smell unsettles me.
Peeling my weighted eyelids open gradually, piercing light spurs the overwhelming headache near my temples, stirring the nausea in my stomach. I scrunch my face in response to the bright light.
My breathing quickens at the sharp pain digging into my sternum as if someone were using one of those mechanical screwdrivers to drill into my bones.
My body hunches over slightly, and a groan parts from my lips. The inexorable aching turns my breathing shallow.
Shit. Why is it hard to breathe?
Breathe.
I couldn’t breathe.
Images of dark waters smash into my cognizance, flashes of my memory resurfacing.
My truck went off the cliff. I couldn’t escape. I sucked in too much water. I was drowning.
My eyes fly open to dispose of the horrific memory, and my pained lungs draw in quick breaths since I can’t seem to get enough oxygen.
The ceiling, blurry at first, comes into focus. The fluorescent fixtures overhead drill into my eyes, the bright white room grinding the panic into granules of sand that scrape under my skin.
A faint, feminine voice spills into my ears. “Taryn?”
Ugh. My head feels like an anchor threatening to drag me back down to that dark place. Managing to turn my focus, my head falls to the side, my eyes taking in the woman before me.
A woman who should be countries away and not where…well, wherever I am.
“Mom?” I croak, my sandpaper tongue barely speaking the words.
She rushes to my side next to a monitor and an IV machine, the corners of my eyes briefly registering the room.
The stark white walls burn my vision. A wooden door is open, leading to a hallway where someone in navy scrubs rushes past. Glancing down, I see the transparent cords draped on the bed attached to the catheter taped on the inside of my elbow, feeding my veins.
My stomach rolls. I hate the hospital. But I’m guessing I didn’t have a choice by the looks of it.
“Oh, sweetheart,” my mother sighs in relief, lifting a hand to my cheek and stroking the skin.
I lean into her touch, soaking up her warmth. I didn’t realize I could miss a hand’s temperature so much—it’s unique to her. There was always something so comforting about her—her hugs, her warm palms.
Her cropped, brown, layered hair is tickling her shoulders. When I peer into her eyes, it’s like gazing into a mirror. I’ve always thought they reminded me of chocolate whiskey.
Pain rolls through my body, a tear slipping from the corner of my eye, drifting down my feverish cheek as I stare at her, trying to convince myself she’s not a mirage. “How are you here right now?”
Her thumb wipes away the moisture. “Your boyfriend called us,” she says softly. “Told us what happened. We hopped on a flight immediately.” She swallows, her gentle fingers tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
Wait…what?
I adjust my body to try and sit up, but she urges me not to by placing her hands on my chest. She doesn’t touch me hard, but I feel everything.
At this point, even the stroke of a feather could have me hunching over in pain.
Well, if I could manage to hunch over, which I think is impossible right now.
“Where is he?” I murmur, the frantic pace of my heart stabilizing the consistent pain in my ribs.
She steps to the side, revealing a body in one of the visitor chairs against the wall in the room.
Even asleep and exhausted, Colten’s handsome features have my heart rate spiking, but then an aching follows behind my rib cage.
His head is perched uncomfortably on his shoulder, his chest rising and falling steadily.
My eyes remain trained on him when I respond to something my mom mentioned earlier. “He’s not my boyfriend,” I clarify.
My mother glances at him, and we both stare. I’m sure the same thought is running through her head because how can he sleep like that with his legs straight out and crossed at the ankles and his head using his shoulder as a pillow? It looks incredibly uncomfortable.
Her attention finds me, and she grins. “That’s not what he said.”
The slow spread of a smile overtakes my lips.
Boyfriend, huh?
“Breathe so I can get on my knees and lay my heart at your feet and beg for your forgiveness before I tell you how much I love you—how badly and profoundly I’ve loved you since you sat across from me in that office.”
His voice—those words—circulate in my head on a loop as if I’m never supposed to forget them. It’s like a song carved into a record, but the tune and lyrics were engraved into my heart instead.
I’m unsure how I heard him say that or how I registered his words, but I think that admission grasped onto my soul and wrenched me out of death’s cold fingers, ready to claim me.
“You were—dead,” my mother chokes. “He saved you…”
Raking my eyes over his exhausted form, I suppress a smile at his slightly parted lips. Lips that have always made me feel alive, but now they’re the reason I’m breathing.
“I think in a lot of ways we’ve saved each other,” I tell her honestly.
A tear falls off her bottom lashes, and she wipes it away. “Your father.” She swallows the emotion. “I’m going to go get your father.”
Pressing her lips to my forehead, she hurries out of the room, the silence settling around me. Turning my head toward the ceiling, my eyes flutter closed, and I attempt to draw in calming breaths.
I wince in pain. Damn. Why is a tiny person in my chest scraping my bones against a cheese grater?
Try again.
In through my nose, out through my—
“I know you need to breathe to live, Little Ghost, but don’t hurt yourself.” Colten’s smooth, sleep-ridden voice numbs the pain.
Turning my head on the pillow toward him, his vibrant light green eyes clash with mine.
They take my breath away, which probably isn’t healthy right now, considering my state.
The corner of his mouth tilts up as he pushes himself off the chair and strides to my bedside.
Lowering his head to mine, his lips brush against my temple so lovingly that my heart splinters as if I could transfer the pieces to where we’re connected and embed myself into him.
Lifting my left arm, I place my hand on his jaw, the weight of his head falling into my hand. “At least the pain is a reminder that I’m living. Thank you for jumping in and saving me.” I stroke the stubble on his cheek with my thumb.
Straightening, he sits in the chair beside my bed, the one I assume my mom was in before I woke. He reaches for my hand, grasping it tightly enough as if he’d lose me if he let go.
His thumb moves in soothing, circular motions on my wrist. “You wouldn’t be in here if it wasn’t for me.” Shaking his head, he twists his lips to the side, emotion swirling in his glassy eyes. “I shouldn’t have let you go—”
I squeeze his hand tighter. “And I shouldn’t have run,” I whisper, all the emotions hitting me because this is equally our fault.
Yes, he should have answered me back and said something instead of nothing when I said I loved him. But I’m used to running or at least leaving when I feel any kind of discomfort or angst.
“We share the blame for this, Colten. I won’t allow you to carry the weight of this on your own.”
His eyes lift to mine, flashing with something I’ve never seen in his gaze. It’s empathy. But then his eyelids shut, the thoughts swarming in his head, working against him.
“But you’re here because of me,” he says again. His tone is laced with grief. “Your ribs are fractured, Taryn.”
Ah. That explains the immense pain I’m in.
“I literally broke you when I…” The words die on his tongue. He flattens his lips, his eyes shifting to the other side of the room where the single sink sits with some cabinets.
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and shake my head. “I don’t understand,” I say, not following.
The words get lodged in his throat. “I broke you when I gave you CPR.”
“The CPR you gave me when you saved my life?” A tear falls over his bottom lash, and it breaks my heart watching it trail down his flushed cheek and the dusting of hair on his jaw that looks like it grew overnight from his stress and worry alone.
“Colten, my truck went off a cliff, and my body smashed into the wheel.” He winces, his eyes darting to a corner of the room to avoid my eyes.
“Please look at me,” I plead, a near whisper.
His eyelids slam shut and he exhales a shaky breath before pulling his gaze back to mine.
“I drowned. You saved me. Even if it wasn’t the fall and impact that caused it, rib fractures can happen even when you’re doing CPR correctly—”
“But I was so hard on you,” he murmurs.
“‘Breathe so I can get on my knees and lay my heart at your feet and beg for your forgiveness,’” I repeat his words.
He glances up, eyes scanning mine as his brow furrows in disbelief.
I wasn’t sure if he said it, but now I’m sure.
“I don’t need you to lay your heart at my feet, Colten, because yours is the reason mine is beating again. ”
The column of his throat works as he swallows. “You heard me?”
“I’m not sure how…it was almost like a distant voice in a sea of nothingness. I didn’t feel pain at that moment. Everything was dark and lifeless, but the one thing I heard clearly was your voice.”
His head falls between his shoulders, his body physically shaking. He picks up his head, his cheeks flushed as he peers at me. “So, I’m assuming you heard the rest then?”
My lips tug upward, and I nod, the tears stinging behind my eyes.
“Goddammit.” He rakes his other hand that isn’t holding mine through his hair. I don’t think there is any circulation in my fingers, but I am perfectly okay with it. “I didn’t think you’d hear me. I didn’t want to tell you that way…”
“Then tell me when you’re ready,” I say genuinely.
“Taryn—”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m serious, Colten. I don’t need to hear it today. I don’t need to hear it tomorrow. Hearing you say it at all—even if it was your distant voice in that unforeseen moment—is all I need right now. You are all I need right now.”
Standing, he leans over my bed, his head dipping to mine.
Colten’s lips brush over mine so softly.
He’s not close enough, so my left hand drifts behind his head to tug the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing him closer.
He groans into my mouth, and I swallow the sound.
Tilting his lips, he deepens the kiss, his tongue entering my mouth and flicking against mine, injecting sparks back into my bloodstream, making me feel even more alive.
If he keeps kissing me like this, I’ll be healed by the end of the day.
Colten makes me feel high. A pain relief method I would happily overdose on. Again. And again.
“Fuck,” he feathers across my lips. He kisses the corner of my mouth. “Thank you—” His lips press into my nose. “—for coming—” He peppers his mouth against my cheek, and I whimper. “—back to me. My beautiful little ghost.”
“Always,” I exhale as his forehead rests against mine.
Moving my spine, I hiss at the agony. He quickly stands up, looking at me with concern.
“I’m okay,” I reassure him. He nods. “And thank you for calling my parents. I haven’t seen my mom and dad in over eight months; I didn’t realize how much I needed to see them after all this time. ”
He leans into the bed, rubbing a lock of my hair between his pointer finger and thumb.
“Your parents love you, Taryn. It’s evident.
They may have their own way of showing it, but the moment I called, they instantly bought tickets to fly out here to make sure you were okay.
” I peer at my red-painted nails, pulling my lower lip between my teeth.
“Cameron and Brennan are back at the house, but I told them you’re awake, so they are bringing everyone here to see you.
They were the ones who got the helicopter and first responders to us. ”
My frantic eyes meet his. “Are they okay? What about Elena and Tristan—”
“They sat them down and told them what happened. They were shaken up, but they want to come see you.”
I smile.
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Oh, and your parents are going to stay with us for a week. Your mother insisted on getting a hotel since she said she wasn’t sure of their plans after this, but I insisted they stay with us. I hope that’s okay.”
A vibration of movement deep in my memory begins to bounce gradually off the inside of my skull.
Tapering my brows, I focus on the recollection, the images playing behind my eyes, dragging me back down to drowning in my truck.
I couldn’t breathe. It was dark. But I looked out the window one last time before my eyes closed and saw something in the distance. It was metal.
My hand flies to my mouth, tears pooling in my eyes.
It was her. He said they never found the car. That her vehicle disappeared when she did.
“Colten, your mom,” I stutter through the tears, the burning image of the silver SUV coexisting with my truck underwater.
His eyes fall to the impeccable white tile flooring below his shoes, the fluorescent light catching his Adam’s apple bobbing.
His eyes glass over, the look terrifying me more than I thought possible. “You said something about her before you passed out,” he swallows. “I felt it in my gut. I knew you wouldn’t mention her out of nowhere like that.”
He pauses, running his hands over his face, keeping me from seeing the emotion tearing through him.
My chest rises and falls heavily despite the ache. “Colten,” I mutter worriedly.
When his eyes find mine, my stomach sinks. “Your truck wasn’t the only car they pulled out of the river this morning. You found my mom, Taryn.”