Chapter 17
LUKE
The voice rips through the air, calling my name, but it’s distorted, like it’s clawing its way through a dense, suffocating fog. “Luke, can you hear me? I need you to keep your eyes open.”
I can’t answer. The sensation of flight consumes me. Below me, Wildhaven unfurls in patchwork: grazing fields, red barns, cows swatting flies with their tails.
In the middle of the field, a blonde woman in a flowing blue sundress twirls as a satin scarf floats behind her like a phantom.
A desperate yearning claws at my insides—I need to speak to her, to reach out and touch her.
I dive closer, but agony shatters the dream. A bullet rips through my shoulder, shattering bone and flesh. I crash into the earth, the ground drinking my blood in greedy gulps.
I can’t die yet. I need to ask Isla to marry me, take her to Disneyland, and spin together in the teacups.
“He was a good sheriff,” they’ll say at my funeral. “He cared deeply about Wildhaven.”
“Luke, it’s Ryan. Stay with me!”
Ryan. Yes, Ryan. I need to throw him a pass, make our town proud.
But I can’t throw it now. My arm won’t move.
The voices around me are frantic now, a cacophony of urgency. My eyes are squeezed shut, yet the harsh brightness bleeds through, painting stars on the back of my eyelids.
Suddenly, my skin ignites with a blazing inferno as fire courses through my veins. The pain is excruciating, like shards of glass piercing my insides.
Voices return and slice through the fog. A few words escape through the dense veil, but the beeping of machines drowns them out.
A hand touches mine. It’s warm. It’s familiar.
“I just want him to wake up. Why isn’t he waking up?” I recognize the voice as my mother’s. She’s here. I’m still here, too.
My body hurts. I don’t mind because it informs me I’m alive. I’ll mind later.
“Luke, can you open your eyes for me?”
What does she think I’ve been trying to do for the past thirty minutes?
It hurts, but I manage to flutter my eyes half open. They’re too heavy to go further until a weight lands on me, and then they snap open from the pain.
“He’s awake!” Eden screams in my ear.
Maybe I should’ve stayed dead?
My throat is gravel, but I rasp, “You’re hurting me.”
“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”
She’s still yelling at me.
Finally, my vision sharpens. For a second, I don’t see my loud, indestructible family. I see a ring of pale faces, eyes swollen and wild, like they’ve all just had to imagine a world without me in it.
“Glad to see you awake, Sheriff.” The doctor glances at something behind me. “Your vitals are looking good.”
A slow turn of my head reveals my mom standing beside me, her hands clenched in prayer.
“What’s your pain level from 1 to 10?” he asks. He points to that ridiculous chart of the cartoon guy with the varying grimaces. I’d say I’m about a mid-level grimace right now.
“Six,” I choke out. “My throat…”
He nods. “That’s from the intubation. It will go away. Let’s sit you up and get you some water.”
The bed begins to rise at my head slowly and pain sears through my left shoulder. Number ten grimace for sure.
The nurse offers me a cup of water with a straw and holds it to my lips. The liquid drips down my throat, coating the inflamed tissue. Soon, whatever they put into my IV begins to bring down my pain to a more tolerable level.
Thankfully, everyone gives me a few minutes for my brain to begin to catch up. Once I can form coherent thoughts, I speak slowly and deliberately. “Can someone tell me what happened?”
Chase and Dalton exchange glances. “You don’t remember?” Dalton asks.
“I had some crazy stuff running through my mind. I’m still trying to decipher reality from drug-induced hallucinations.”
“You were shot, Luke,” Sav’s voice breaks like a fragile glass beside my mom.
Fleeting images begin to flicker in my mind like a broken film reel. “When did it happen?”
Eden sits on the edge of my bed and gently touches my leg over the sheet. “Yesterday.”
Chase leans down close, a grin playing on his lips. “Dude, what’s it like to get shot?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“But now you have a cool story,” he insists, his grin widening. “The chicks are gonna dig it.”
Dalton steps up and shoves Chase to the side. “Luke, how are you feeling?”
“I think I feel okay, all things considered.”
“I just can’t believe this happened,” Sav says. “This kind of thing just doesn’t happen in Wildhaven.”
Dalton crosses his arms, leaning back slightly. “I have a feeling this is the influence of Cedar Hollow. I can’t believe Dad wants to do business there.”
Suddenly, my father’s voice booms through the hallway like thunder. “I don’t care what you say. My son will get the best care.”
“Speak of the devil.” Eden giggles.
I let my head drop against the pillow, closing my eyes for a moment as he strides into the room with an air of authority.
“You look like hell, son.” His voice scrapes like gravel, but his hand rests gently on my shoulder as his eyes lock onto the monitor’s jagged green line, pupils constricting with each spike. “I’m going to take care of everything.”
I open one eye, then the other, as his dark-suited form comes into focus. “Dad, what are you talking about?”
“This room is unacceptable. You need to be in a single room. The nicest room they have.”
“It’s not the Plaza, Dad.” Chase’s voice is tinged with sarcasm. “There isn’t even anyone in the other bed.”
“It’s not fitting for a Wild,” he says, absentmindedly straightening my blanket. “We own this town.”
Chase bends forward, murmuring, “It’s that kind of attitude that makes people want to shoot at us.”
A laugh tumbles out of me, rattling through my body. Pain spikes across my shoulder and chest.
Sav steps closer, smoothing the rumpled blanket. “What do you remember, Luke?”
I shake my head, eyelids heavy. “Not much yet.”
My father rubs his jaw. “Maybe they should transfer you to St. Michael’s. This place—” he jerks a thumb at the nurses’ station outside “—is running low on blood. They asked the family to donate. Can you believe that?”
“That’s not unusual, Daddy,” Eden says.
His stern mask softens at her tone. “I’m worried about my son.” He turns his attention to me. “You’re supposed to be smarter than this.”
The words sound like a rebuke, but the way he won’t stop pacing betrays a restlessness that he won’t say out loud.
Sav winds her arm around his. “Okay, that’s enough excitement for now. Luke needs rest. Let’s all go donate that blood they need.”
He huffs but follows her out, their departure marked by the door’s soft click. Dalton lifts his cowboy hat, nods, and trails after them, hauling Chase with him.
My mother pauses at the frame, brushes a strand of hair off my forehead. “Be back soon, Baby.”
Eden is the only one left. The heart monitor’s steady beep seems to fill the silence. She perches on the edge of the bed, eyes bright.
“So,” she says, “why aren’t you telling everyone what you remember?”
I tilt my head, the pillow creasing under me. “What makes you think I’m not?”
She folds her hands in her lap. “I’m the youngest of the big Wild brood. I learned how to read people a long time ago. Especially my big brother.”
I press my lips together. “I’m still piecing it together. Can you do me a favor?”
“Anything. Want a cookie? A book?” She grins, but her eyes are serious.
Another breathy laugh escapes me, tinged with pain. “Maybe later. Right now, I need you to call Gabe. I need to see him and Isla.”
Eden’s brow lifts. “They were here earlier. I tried the cookie-and-book trick, but Gabe dragged Isla out of here to get some rest. She seemed really freaked out.”
My chest tightens, imagining Isla back in this place where her last memories are some of the worst of her life. “Please call Gabe and tell him I’m doing better, that I need to see Isla.”
She reaches out, squeezes my hand. “I’ll keep everyone busy so you can talk.”
A wave of gratitude warms me. “Thank you.”
She slips from the room, and I sink back into the pillow, closing my eyes.
When the door creaks open again, Gabe steps inside first, shoulders tense, and then Isla peeks around him. Her wide eyes lock onto mine.
Gabe lets out a long breath, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Good to see you awake.”
“Eden mentioned you were here,” I say, my voice still hoarse.
He nods. “We were driving down Main Street when we spotted the ambulance racing by, lights flashing. We turned around and followed it. Got there just in time to see the paramedics working on you.”
Gabe’s phone vibrates in his pocket, prompting him to slide it out with urgency.
His eyes flick over the screen, and his expression hardens as he strides purposefully toward the door. “I’ll be right back.”
Isla watches him leave, her gaze lingering on the spot where he just stood before shifting to me. Her eyes sweep over my battered body, taking in the bruises and bandages. Her top lip quivers, and unshed tears shimmer in her eyes, pooling at the corners but refusing to spill.
I stretch out my hand toward her, palm open. “Come here.”
Isla slips her small hand into mine, gripping it with surprising strength before glancing at the monitors beside my bed. She meets my gaze, and a soft smile tugs at her lips.
“What?” I ask.
She smirks. “I was watching your heart rate. It spiked when we walked in.”
I frown, waiting for her to continue.
“But when I sat down and held your hand, your pulse jumped for a moment and then dropped lower than before,” she continues, a glint of amusement in her eyes.
“That can’t be right,” I protest, shaking my head against the rough hospital pillow. “You’ve always made my blood pressure skyrocket.”
Isla laughs, a light, melodic sound that warms my chest. “No, I think you still like me a little bit.”
I narrow my eyes playfully. “That’s not possible. What am I going to do with my life if I’m not using your disappearance as an excuse to push everyone away?”
“Maybe you could try letting people in?”
“And what about you?” I counter. “You’ve been living in fear for ten years. Are you ready to let people in?”
She raises my hand to her mouth, pressing a tender kiss to my knuckles with her soft lips. “I’d like to try. So, maybe don’t die on me.”
Her words land, soft and sharp all at once. Let people in. As if I didn’t build this whole life on the smoking crater she left behind.
“I’m not going anywhere. I could get out of this bed and run a marathon if they’d let me.”
A laugh bubbles up from her chest, but her eyes soon glisten with fresh tears. “I was so scared.”
I nod, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “I know. But I’m going to be fine, and we are going to find the person behind this.”
“I believe you.”
“Being in this hospital must be hard for you. I’m sorry for making you worry.”
She shakes her head vehemently, sniffling as she tries to keep her emotions in check. “This isn’t about me, Luke. I thought you were going to die.”
Offering a faint smile, I reply, “I’m alive.”
“How’s your family taking this?”
“About how you’d expect. My father’s ready to get everyone fired.” I shake my head. “He blames this whole mess on my job. You know the speech—if only I worked for him, everything would be perfect.”
“They all love you so much,” Isla says, her thumb gently tracing circles on the back of my hand. “Where is everyone? I expected a big, raucous party when we walked in.”
“They’re giving blood,” I explain. “Eden’s keeping them occupied, distracting them so we can have this conversation.”
My thumb burns a path across her skin. “Stop worrying about me.”
A laugh dies in her throat. “You nearly died, Luke. Don’t you dare tell me not to worry.”
The room collapses to nothing but the violent rhythm of the monitor and the thundering of blood in my ears.
Suddenly, Isla lunges forward. Her mouth collides with mine.
Fire explodes between us, consuming everything.
When her lips part, I consume her like a drowning man breaking the surface for air. Something inside me shatters—a dam bursting, flooding every hollow space.
Grief and terror and hunger collide, a violent supernova in my chest. My fingers carve into her neck, dragging her against me until there’s nothing between us but heartbeats. She yields completely.
The kiss devours us both. When Isla finally tears away, her pupils have swallowed her irises whole, her breath coming in ragged gasps that match my own.
If I flatline right now, at least the last thing I tasted was her. Part of me thinks that’s the closest thing to peace I’ve earned.
A loud noise breaks through the moment, and Isla jumps back as Gabe re-enters the room. He’s completely unaware of the moment he’s interrupting as he drags the other chair over to my bedside, the legs scraping against the linoleum floor.
He drops into the chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Tell me what you remember from the shooting.”
I take a deep, steadying breath, letting it fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. The scene replays in my head whether I want it to or not.
“It seemed like a routine traffic stop. Big van, like one of those painter-style ones. The driver was weaving, and I was worried it was a DUI. Kids were walking to school at that time.” He takes a deep breath.
“But something felt off the second I pulled up. It was too quiet. The driver didn’t roll down the window, didn’t get out to argue. Nothing.”
Gabe leans forward.
“I approached the passenger side. The sliding door was cracked open just enough for the muzzle of a gun to fit through. I spotted it at the last second, but before I could react, there was a flash, and pain ripped straight through my shoulder.”
He swallows.
“I hit the ground before my brain even caught up. Face in the dirt, gravel in my teeth, lungs full of gunpowder.”
“Did you see the driver?” Gabe asks.
I shake my head. “Never got a chance.”
“I managed to tap my comm three times short, three fast, three short for SOS. I knew backup would come. I remember the van tearing off before everything went black.”
And through it all, the only thought I couldn’t shake was her. Isla. The picture of her face in my head, and the bone-deep knowledge that if I went down, I’d never see her again.
I don’t share that part.
“You could have died,” she whispers.
“Yeah.” The word scrapes out of me, rough and reluctant. My thumb strokes her wrist, needing the contact as much as she does. “But I didn’t.”
Gabe rubs his jaw.
Isla turns to him. “What are you thinking?”
Gabe’s brow furrows as he stands and paces for a moment before leaning against the back wall. “This was a set-up. This wasn’t random.”
I admit what I’ve been thinking. “I agree. A stolen van would’ve bolted at the first sight of me. Or at least tried to hide. This person wanted me to pull them over.”
“It was a trap,” Gabe says, a note of anger creeping into his voice.
Isla looks between us. “You don’t think it could just be a coincidence?”
Gabe shakes his head slowly, his eyes dark with conviction. “I don’t believe in coincidences. It’s all connected. Especially after what my contact just told me.”