Chapter 38 #2
Dr. Carter leans back in his chair, removing his glasses.
“Miles will be okay, but…he got lucky.” He pauses, his eyes scanning me like he’s weighing how much to say.
He exhales, letting the weight of the words hang in the air.
“He has a broken collarbone, some minor spinal strains from severe fractures, and a concussion.”
I swallow hard, trying to keep myself composed, but the fear rises up again. I can’t push away the image of Miles’s body crumpled on the ground, and that thought grips me with a vise-like pressure.
I force myself to ask, “So, he’ll be okay?” My voice cracks as I whisper, like saying it out loud will make it real, but it’s still not enough to feel like I’m holding on to any of the hope that’s been shredded away.
Dr. Carter nods slowly. “Yes, but…” He hesitates for a moment, exchanging a look with Cameron that doesn’t sit right with me.
Cameron looks at me then, his jaw tightening. He knows what’s coming, and it doesn’t make it any easier.
Dr. Carter sighs and leans forward slightly. “These types of injuries are often career-ending, especially for someone in a physically demanding sport like bull riding.”
The words hit me like a slap. My stomach twists painfully, and I feel like I’m drowning. I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to hear that this might be it for him, that everything he’s worked for, everything he’s lived for, might be slipping through his fingers.
Miles has always been so driven by this, the adrenaline, the crowds, the thrill of the ride. And now, to hear that it might be taken away from him, that fear clenches around my heart like a vise. He’ll never get to do the thing he loves again.
The room falls deathly quiet. Cameron’s face hardens, and I feel a lump form in my throat as the weight of what this means presses down on me.
Dr. Carter looks at me, his voice soft now, almost apologetic. “He’s a fighter. And I have no doubt he’ll recover, but we’ll need to take things day by day. The road to recovery is long.”
“I know…” I whisper.
My hands are shaking in my lap, but all I can do is hold on to the thought of Miles, the man who has become so much more to me than I ever expected. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know one thing—I’m not ready to lose him. Not now, not ever.
Cameron stands up, his gaze flickering to the door. “I think he’ll want you there when he wakes up.”
I nod, my voice barely a whisper as I stand up too, wiping my eyes again. “Thank you.”
As I walk with Cameron, my mind races with what’s happening, what it all means, and I can’t help but feel that deep ache, the one that comes with knowing someone you love might not be able to live the life they’ve dreamed of.
But for now, all I can do is pray that Miles is okay, and that he’ll come back to me.
We step off the elevator, and the sterile hospital air hits me like a slap to the face. The white walls, the buzzing overhead lights—it all feels wrong, too clean, too cold. I can feel my heart beating in my throat, each thud louder than the last as we make our way to the waiting area.
I find an empty seat and sit, not really sure if I’m here or if I’m just floating in some endless loop of panic.
My body’s numb, but my mind is running at full speed, replaying the worst parts over and over again.
Miles’s body hitting the ground. The horrible way his head snapped back and how he folded.
Cameron returns a moment later, his footsteps steady, grounding me. He hands me a coffee without a word, his own cup already half empty.
“Here,” he says with quiet certainty, his calm voice a small anchor in the chaos.
I take the cup, barely able to feel the warmth through my trembling hands.
“Thanks,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.
I stare at the cup, trying to focus on the moment, trying to ignore the weight in my chest. My heart’s still in my throat, my head’s spinning. I can’t think straight, not when Miles is on the other side of those doors, his life hanging in the balance.
The door suddenly opens, and my body goes on high alert as I see John, Maria, Greg, and Dahlia walk through. Their eyes scan the room, but it’s Maria who sees me first. Her face is drained of color, her lips pressed tight in a thin line.
“Is he going to be okay?” Her voice cracks with that raw edge of fear I know too well. It’s the kind of fear you don’t know how to handle, the kind that makes your legs shake and your hands tremble.
I stand, shaking my head in an attempt to steady myself.
“He’s going to be fine,” I say.
Maria doesn’t speak for a beat, her eyes searching mine for reassurance, her breath coming in shallow gasps. And then before I can say anything else, she pulls me into a hug. She holds me tighter than I expect, and I close my eyes for just a second, letting her comfort wash over me.
“I know he’s going to be okay,” she whispers into my hair, though I can hear the uncertainty in her words.
“I hope so,” I whisper back, my voice thick with emotion I’m barely keeping in check.
We pull away, and I glance at Greg, standing behind Maria, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
He looks…different. Not the Greg I’m used to seeing.
No playful sarcasm in his eyes. He’s just…
worried. He doesn’t speak, but I see it, in the way his shoulders are tense and the way his eyes flicker between me and the doors where Miles’s fate lies.
Dahlia steps forward, her presence warm yet guarded, a faint tension hanging in the air.
I remember Miles mentioning her once, about how she’d been in New York with her fiancé.
But there’s no ring on her finger now, and I don’t press.
That’s a conversation for another time—one I’m not ready to have.
“Nice to meet you, Vivian,” she says, offering her hand with a small, polite smile. Her voice is calm but there’s an edge to it, something unspoken between us.
I take her hand, shaking it firmly. “Likewise. Dahlia, right? Greg and Miles’s sister?”
She shrugs, the movement casual, but there’s something in her eyes that says she’s not quite as relaxed as her posture suggests. “Yeah, that’s me.”
Greg watches us, his jaw tight, his eyes flicking between us before settling back on me. “We appreciate you being here, Viv,” he says, his voice low and steady. “Don’t go anywhere.”
I nod, trying to give them a semblance of strength. Anything to make them feel like they don’t have to shoulder this alone. But the truth is, all I want is for this nightmare to end. To hear something, anything, that lets me know Miles is okay.
The silence in the room is deafening, only broken by the occasional shuffle of someone’s movements, the soft murmur of voices in the hallway. I keep glancing at the door, my stomach tightening with every passing second.
With every breath, I feel that crushing weight pressing down on my chest, like the air’s been sucked out of the room.
Miles’s face flashes in my mind—the way he smiled at me before he went to the rodeo, the way he held me just a few days ago.
The way he looked when he told me he was falling love with me.
I wish I would have said it back.
I look at Greg and Dahlia, both of them dealing with this in their own ways. Dahlia’s trying to stay calm, but I can see the flicker of anxiety in her eyes.
I focus on my hands in my lap, the knuckles white from how hard I’m gripping my knees, willing the seconds to pass faster, wishing I could hear something-anything-to see him.
* * *
It’s been a long, uncomfortable, and impatient stretch of hours in the hospital. Time’s moving very slowly, each minute dragging, every second heavier than the last. We’ve all stayed here, lingering in that same sickly air.
Mindy showed up, as she always does, with a bag of food that was as fresh as it could be, though it wasn’t exactly gourmet.
Still, it’s the thought that counts. Her presence lifts the air in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
She has that gift—turning something dark into a little bit lighter, a little more bearable.
Greg and I talked and agreed—it’s best to keep the bar shut today. Neither of us would be able to focus on anything at all, much less work.
The waiting is torture. It’s like being stuck in limbo, and all I can do is wait, really.
“Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez.” Dr. Carter’s voice rings out, cutting through the tension in the room. We all stand up at once, a nervous anticipation hanging in the air.
He pauses for a moment, his gaze softening as he takes in our collective anxiety.
“He’s awake. Would you like to see him?”
The relief hits us all at once, but it’s fleeting. It’s a relief laced with so much fear still lingering, so many questions still unanswered. I feel the air leave my lungs in a rush, but it doesn’t make me feel lighter. It just makes the weight of the moment more pronounced.
John, Maria, Greg, and Dahlia don’t wait a second longer. They nod quickly, eager to see him.
“I think it’s best if we keep it two at a time,” Dr. Carter says.
John and Maria are given the go-ahead by the rest of us. They follow Dr. Carter down the hallway, and I’m left standing there, rooted to the spot.
I force myself to look at my hands, to focus on the way my nails dig into my palm as I try to steady my nerves. The tears are close, too close, and I need them to stay in.
I can’t breathe. I feel like I’m suffocating in the most unfamiliar way. The fear, the guilt, the memories—it’s all flooding back to me.
Today made me realize something.
My feelings for Miles…they’re deeper than I thought.
I thought I could keep my distance, that I just needed time to figure things out, to let the fear of losing him fade. But in that moment, everything went still—everything shifted inside me.