Chapter 37
thirty-seven
CALLAN
The world is a mess of noise, and none of it is helpful. Voices drift in and out, machines beep, but I can’t understand a damn thing they’re trying to say. Somewhere in the haze, I catch snippets of conversation, but it’s all muffled, like I’m underwater.
“…doing well without the ventilator…”
The words are clear enough to pierce through the fog, but the rest is lost.
A soft hand presses against mine.
Okay. That’s nice.
I try to squeeze it, to let whoever it is know that, yeah, I’m still in here, but my body has apparently filed for early retirement. Nothing moves. I don’t even twitch.
Fantastic.
Maybe I died.
I give opening my eyes an honest effort, but they won’t budge, either. Fine. I focus on what I can sense. The warmth of that hand, the sure beep of what I’m guessing is a heart monitor, and the smell of something faint but familiar—perfume. Bree’s.
The realization has little time to settle before fiery pain tears through me. My chest, head, leg, hell, even my hair hurts. It’s enough to drag me kicking and screaming back into consciousness whether I’m ready or not.
I force my eyes open, and the light hits hard. My vision is a wreck. Everything’s too bright and unfocused. I blink rapidly, trying to make sense of the shapes swimming in front of me.
I’m definitely in a hospital. Bree’s asleep, or, well…half asleep. She’s slumped in a chair beside the bed, her body half draped over me, like she’s trying to be close even in sleep.
What the actual fuck happened? I was on my bike by the river, and then…damn it. The deer.
I try to speak, but my throat feels like sandpaper. Nothing comes out. My breath is shallow, but I manage to squeeze her hand enough to remind myself that she’s here.
I try to talk again, this time forcing the words out in a strained whisper. “Bree…”
It’s enough to stir her. Her head jerks up, eyes wide and blinking. Relief floods her face, but there’s doubt in her eyes, too, like she’s afraid this might be some cruel trick.
“Callan?” Her voice cracks, and she leans forward, gripping my hand as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go. She’s shaking, and I can’t tell if it’s from worry, relief, or the tears she’s trying to force away. “Oh my god, you’re awake.”
I start to speak again, but the effort backfires, my breath catching painfully. Bree’s expression tightens.
“Shh, don’t try to talk,” she whispers, her fingers brushing featherlight over my cheek. Her voice trembles. “I’m going to let the nurse know you’re awake.”
I don’t want a nurse. I want her.
I want to tell her everything. Apologies, regrets, promises. I’d recite poetry if I thought it would make that haunted look in her eyes go away. But the words clog my throat, useless and stuck in the wreckage of my body.
Her hand shakes as she reaches for the call button. Her golden hair is a tangled mess, and the dark circles under her eyes make me wonder just how long she’s been sitting there, watching over me.
How long have I been here?
A nurse enters, her energy a sharp contrast to the fragile nervousness radiating from Bree. “Mr. MacKenzie, good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”
My words come out as little more than a rough, hoarse rasp. “Like…I’ve been hit by a truck.”
The nurse gives a sympathetic smile. “Close enough. A deer and a motorcycle aren’t the best of friends.” She checks the machines around me, pressing buttons on one with practiced ease.
Bree doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t even crack a smile as her grip on my hand tightens.
I try again, testing my voice. “What…happened?”
“You took quite the beating. Hypothermia, a nasty gash on your side, a concussion, and a fractured leg. Honestly, you’re lucky.”
Lucky.
Bree makes a choked sound, something between a scoff and a sob, and I shift my gaze to her. Her eyes are red-rimmed, exhausted, and full of…longing? Anger? Absolute certainty that she’s going to kill me as soon as I’m well enough to run?
Probably all three.
“I’ll page the doctor. He’ll want to examine you now that you’re awake.”
Bree gives a quick nod as the nurse leaves the room. I try to sit up, but the pain spikes immediately. A groan slips out before I can stop it, full of frustration. My ribs feel like they’re being crushed, the pressure unbearable with each shallow breath I try to take.
“Easy,” Bree murmurs. She doesn’t push, doesn’t rush. Just waits, letting me find my rhythm as I struggle through the pain at my own pace.
I manage to settle back down, my body shuddering with the effort, my breath coming in jagged bursts. Finally, I meet her gaze.
“You scared the shit out of me,” she says, the words raw and unfiltered. “Don’t you dare do that ever again.”
A weak chuckle escapes me, even though it sends a spike of pain straight through my chest. I wince. “Guess I can’t make any promises,” I rasp, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth despite everything.
She rolls her eyes, though I catch the way she’s trying to hold back a smile. “You’re impossible.” There’s no real anger in her voice.
“What the fuck happened to me?”
She takes a deep breath, her eyes never leaving mine. “You hit that deer head-on before you went into the river. More specifically, you broke three ribs, punctured your left lung, fractured your right femur, and got yourself a nasty concussion to top it all off. Oh, and stitches. Everywhere.”
As she talks, her fingers are already at work—checking the IV line, adjusting the blanket like it’s second nature, her movements calm, practiced, and efficient. She glances at the monitor beside me, then lightly presses two fingers to my wrist, counting silently.
I should probably be more concerned about the punctured lung and the whole near-death experience, but instead, all I can think is… Bree in nurse mode is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I manage a weak, lopsided grin. “So, you saying I look good, or…?”
Her eyes narrow. “I’m saying you’re lucky you’re already in a hospital, because when you’re better, I might just put you back in one.”
Yep. Definitely hot.
Her face shifts. That fierce spark falters, and her voice cracks on the next words. “You’ve been out for four days, Callan.”
Four days? Christ. Seriously? I try to wrap my head around it, but my brain feels like it’s trudging through molasses.
“The doctors… They weren’t sure when you’d wake up…”
I give her hand a weak squeeze. “Hey,” I rasp, doing my best to sound tough, “takes more than a deer to keep a MacKenzie down.”
She’s not laughing. Not even close. She shakes her head like she’s trying to rattle loose everything she’s held in.
“You don’t get it. I was terrified.” Her voice rises with unrestrained emotion.
“I sat here and watched doctors come and go. I listened to your mom cry in the hallway. I counted the seconds between beeps on your monitor because it was the only proof I had that you were still alive.”
She bites her lip hard enough to leave a mark, her hands trembling now. “Everyone’s been in and out, trying to be strong. But I couldn’t leave. Not once. Because what if something happened when I wasn’t here?”
Silence coils thick between us. I swallow hard, but it burns all the way down.
Everything hurts. My lungs, my ribs, my throat.
Hell, even my damn eyelashes feel bruised.
She’s looking down at me, eyes brimming, and I hate that I put that look there.
That I was the reason she had to be so goddamn strong.
I shift my hand toward hers. It’s a clumsy movement, my fingers fumbling against the blanket, but I find her wrist and curl the tips of my fingers around it. Just enough to keep her from drifting away with all that pain she’s carrying.
“I love you,” I say, pausing to breathe through the tightness in my chest. “I fucking love you, Brianna. And I know that doesn’t fix what I put you through, but it’s the truth.”
She stares at me.
Her eyes are wide and wet and shining with affection I don’t deserve, but fuck, I want it. I want her to believe me. To feel every word I just rasped out.
I’m bracing for silence. Or anger. Or maybe nothing in return at all, because after what I’ve put her through, I’m not sure I’ve earned anything.
Then she cracks.
Her face crumples like she’s been holding it together with tape and twine. The second she breaks, something inside me does the same. Tears spill down her cheeks, and she covers her mouth with her hand like she’s trying to hold back a sob. It breaks free anyway.
“You…” Her voice wobbles. “You’re such a goddamn idiot.”
I blink. Okay. Not what I expected, but not the worst, either.
When her forehead drops to our joined hands, I swear my ribs might snap with the way my heart’s beating.
“You scared the hell out of me, Callan. I thought I was going to lose you before I ever got the chance to tell you that I love you, too.”
Did I hear that right? Or did the meds fry my brain?
She looks up at me, her eyes swimming, but fierce in the way only Bree can be when she’s dead set on cutting straight through me.
“You think I sat in this hospital because I felt obligated? I couldn’t leave because every part of me is tied to you.
Because I love you, and it hurts. It hurts so damn much, but I’d still choose it. ”
I try to speak, but all I can do is look at her, memorize her, like I’ll never get another chance.
Her hands move to my face, thumbs brushing my cheeks. “If you ever pull something like this again, I swear to god I will kill you myself. You don’t get to leave me, Callan. Not before I’ve had the chance to love you the way I want to. You hear me?”
And just like that, everything stills. The haze, the pain, the guilt—it all lifts for one aching, beautiful second.
Maybe it took breaking every part of myself to finally understand that I’m tired. Not in my bones. In my soul. Maybe I’ve spent my whole life running toward danger because I didn’t think anything was worth settling down for.
But Bree’s here. Angry. Crying. Shaking with all the feelings I’ve spent years pretending I didn’t need.
She presses her forehead to mine as she whispers, “You owe me forever after this.”
I do. God, I do.
I wish I could say more. Wish I could make promises, wrap her up in every word I’ve never been brave enough to say. But my eyes are already closing, the pull of sleep relentless.
This time, I carry her voice with me into the dark. When I open my eyes again, I’ll fight to become the man who doesn’t just survive.
I’ll become the man who stays.
For her.