Chapter 17 Hospital Promises #2
The thought settled heavily inside my chest.
Because after everything I'd done, after everything I'd said, he'd still been here.
Still waiting.
Still caring.
The understanding hurt more than my injuries.
I looked around the room.
Hospital.
Private room.
Flowers.
Machines.
Definitely not a dream.
Unfortunately.
"How long?"
The question emerged rough and uneven.
Elliot immediately understood.
"Two days."
Two days.
I closed my eyes briefly.
That explained the weakness.
The exhaustion.
The feeling that I'd been hit by a truck.
Possibly twice.
When I opened them again, Elliot was still watching me.
Studying me.
The same way he'd studied books.
Characters.
Stories.
Like he wanted to understand every piece.
The sight felt painfully familiar.
And painfully missed.
My gaze dropped to our hands.
At some point, he'd taken mine.
Neither of us mentioned it.
Neither of us let go.
The silence stretched comfortably.
For the first time in weeks, silence didn't hurt.
Then memory returned.
Sharp.
Urgent.
The attack.
The garage.
My stomach tightened.
"Kane Customs."
The words escaped immediately.
Elliot sighed.
Not surprised.
Of course not.
The garage would be my first concern.
It always was.
"The front section is pretty bad."
I winced.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The garage represented more than a business.
It represented freedom.
A second chance.
A life I'd built myself.
The thought of losing it felt unbearable.
Elliot squeezed my hand gently.
"The structure survived."
The reassurance helped.
A little.
"Insurance?"
The question earned a small laugh.
God.
I'd missed that sound.
"Already filed."
Good.
At least one thing wasn't a disaster.
I looked at him more carefully.
Really looked.
The dark circles remained.
The exhaustion.
The worry.
None of it had disappeared.
The realization settled heavily inside my chest.
"You stayed."
The words came before I could stop them.
Elliot's expression softened instantly.
Like he'd been waiting for that question.
"Yeah."
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
Just certainty.
Simple.
Beautiful certainty.
I swallowed hard.
Emotion tightening unexpectedly in my throat.
"Why?"
The question sounded ridiculous the second it left my mouth.
Yet I genuinely needed the answer.
Because after the things I'd said...
After the way I'd ended things...
After all of it...
Why was he still here?
Elliot looked down briefly.
Then back at me.
The answer arrived quietly.
"Because I love you."
The words stole every remaining breath from my lungs.
Not because I hadn't known.
Because I'd known.
Deep down.
Always.
The difference was hearing it.
Hearing him say it.
Openly.
Without fear.
Without conditions.
Without hesitation.
The truth settled over me like sunlight.
Warm.
Painful.
Impossible to ignore.
I looked away.
Briefly.
Because emotion threatened to overwhelm me.
The room blurred slightly.
Hospital pain medication.
Exhaustion.
Or maybe something else.
Something more dangerous.
Hope.
When I looked back, Elliot was smiling sadly.
Like he understood exactly what was happening inside my head.
The realization didn't surprise me.
He usually did.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
The silence felt different now.
Not awkward.
Not painful.
Healing.
The closest thing either of us had experienced in weeks.
Eventually, Elliot shifted in his chair.
Looking suddenly nervous.
A strange sight.
Confidence had been growing inside him for months.
Seeing uncertainty again immediately caught my attention.
"What?"
His eyes widened slightly.
"What what?"
I almost smiled.
Almost.
"That look."
Recognition appeared immediately.
Then embarrassment.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Elliot glanced toward the book resting in his lap.
Then away.
Then back again.
The behavior felt suspicious.
Which usually meant trouble.
"There's something I need to tell you."
Well.
That definitely wasn't ominous.
I studied him carefully.
Waiting.
Elliot inhaled slowly.
Gathering courage.
The action alone made me nervous.
Because Elliot wasn't normally afraid of honesty.
Not anymore.
Whatever this was, it mattered.
A lot.
Finally, he spoke.
"I've been writing a novel."
I blinked.
Several times.
Because that wasn't the confession I'd expected.
At all.
"A novel."
He nodded.
Still looking strangely anxious.
The reaction confused me.
The kid was a literature student.
Of course he wrote novels.
Why was he acting like he'd confessed to murder?
"Okay."
Elliot laughed nervously.
The sound immediately increased my concern.
"You remember all those times I said I was working on a project?"
Suddenly, pieces started clicking together.
The notebooks.
The late nights.
The secrecy.
The constant typing.
The realization arrived slowly.
Then all at once.
"The project."
His cheeks turned slightly pink.
Oh no.
Whatever this was, it was definitely entertaining.
I could feel it.
"The novel started before we met."
I nodded.
Following.
Mostly.
Then Elliot delivered the sentence that completely derailed my brain.
"It was supposed to be a biker romance."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
I stared.
He stared back.
Waiting.
Nervous.
Hopeful.
Mortified.
The combination would've been adorable under different circumstances.
Instead, I felt profoundly confused.
"A biker romance."
He nodded again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like approaching a wild animal.
Then came the real bomb.
"The main character was originally fictional."
My stomach dropped.
Because suddenly I understood exactly where this conversation was going.
And I wasn't sure I was prepared.
Elliot smiled weakly.
The expression practically screamed panic.
Then he said the words that left me completely stunned.
"After I met you, he stopped being fictional."
The hospital room fell silent.
My brain simply stopped working.
Entirely.
Because apparently while I'd been falling in love with Elliot Reed...
The little menace had been writing a novel about me.
And somehow, unbelievably, that wasn't even the most shocking part.
The most shocking part was realizing he looked genuinely terrified of my reaction.
Like I might be angry.
Like I might laugh.
Like I might reject this gift he'd secretly been carrying for months.
I stared at him.
Then at the notebook resting in his lap.
Then back at him.
Still unable to process what I'd just heard.
A novel.
A biker romance.
Inspired by me.
God help me.
I was dating the most ridiculous man on earth.
And somehow, impossibly, I loved him even more for it.
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