Chapter Thirty-One
Sebastian
The morning had been a parade of visitors, which would have been great if I weren’t so damn exhausted. Miles and two of the other guys from work had shown up around nine with a box of donuts from that place on Amsterdam—the good ones, not the chain crap.
“Brought you the real deal, man,” Miles had said, setting the box on the rolling tray table. “None of that hospital cafeteria stuff.”
I’d tried to laugh, but my ribs had other ideas. “Thanks, but I can’t eat them yet. Doctor’s orders.”
“We’ll eat them for you then,” one of the others said, already reaching for a glazed.
“You’re all heart,” I muttered.
They’d stayed for about twenty minutes, awkwardly hovering around my bed, cracking nervous jokes about whether I’d debugged my bike before riding it.
I appreciated them coming, but I could tell the hospital setting made them uncomfortable.
Programmers weren’t great with the messy reality of physical trauma.
Give them a code crash and they were fine.
Give them a friend with tubes coming out of his arms, and they didn’t know where to look.
Before they left, Miles had leaned in. “So, what’s the word for next year, Sebastian? Please tell me it’s not ‘challenging’ again.”
I’d thought about it—really thought about it. Lying in this bed, I’d had plenty of time to consider what the next year should be about. Not challenging. Not ambitious. Not even successful.
“‘Gratitude,’” I’d said finally. “The word for next year is gratitude.”
Miles had blinked at me, surprised. “That’s... actually kind of perfect, man. Get well soon, yeah?”
After they left, I’d dozed for a bit, happy to let the painkillers pull me under. When I woke, I was watching something mindless on Nurse Phillips’ daughter’s tablet, trying to keep my mind occupied until visiting hours started again.
Then I saw her walk through the door. My heart lurched the way it always did when Jesse appeared, but this time it was different. This time, I understood what it meant to almost lose everything.
I set down the tablet, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. She was half-hidden behind an absurdly large bouquet of flowers. Something about the image made my chest ache—not from the broken ribs, but from the sheer love I felt for this woman.
“Hey, handsome.” She peeked at me from behind the flowers, then set the vase on the table at the foot of my bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now that you’re here. I missed you like crazy.”
The words felt inadequate. What I wanted to say was that I’d spent the last thirty-six hours drifting in and out of consciousness, and every time I surfaced, my first thought was of her.
I wanted to tell her that, when I’d been flying through the air toward that storefront window, time had slowed down enough for me to think one clear thought: I haven’t told her enough.
I haven’t loved her enough. I need more time with her.
She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes scanning me with that mix of tenderness and worry that made me feel simultaneously guilty and cherished.
I knew I looked like hell—pale, stubbled, covered in bandages.
The doctors kept telling me how lucky I was, and intellectually I understood that.
A few inches to the left and the glass would have severed my femoral artery completely.
A few degrees different in the angle of impact and I might have snapped my neck. Lucky. That’s what they called it.
But looking at Jesse now, I understood luck differently. Lucky was having someone who’d rushed to the hospital and offered her blood without hesitation. Lucky was having someone whose face was the first thing I wanted to see when I opened my eyes.
She leaned in to kiss me gently, carefully, as though I might shatter.
I wasn’t having that. I cupped the back of her neck and drew her in for a deep, hungry kiss.
I needed her to know I was still here. Need and heat radiated between us, and beneath it all, a desperate gratitude that we still had this.
That I was still alive to taste her lips, feel her warmth, breathe in the familiar scent of her skin.
I’d come so close to losing all of it. The memory of the accident kept replaying in fragments—the spongy feel of the brakes, the moment the front tire hit that pothole, the sickening sensation of weightlessness before impact, the sound of glass exploding around me.
And then pain, so much pain, and the terrifying warmth of blood leaving my body.
As we drew apart, I kept her close, my eyes tracing her features—her beautiful green eyes, the graceful line of her jaw, the way her lips curved in a soft smile, trying to mask her worry. I wanted to memorize every detail. I’d almost lost the chance to look at her like this.
“I missed you too,” she whispered, brushing her fingers gently over my cheekbone. “You look like you should star in Fight Club. You’re way sexier than Brad Pitt.”
I smiled, stroking her lips with the pad of my thumb. “You need eyeglasses. You’re so beautiful, Jesse.”
She lowered her eyes. I loved that about her, the way compliments made her uncomfortable, the way she never seemed to see what I saw when I looked at her. She was so fierce and capable in every other aspect of her life, but genuine admiration still caught her off guard. I found it endearing.
“You’re the one who needs glasses.” She moved slightly and sat back down on the bed, close enough to hold my hand. “Seriously, how are you doing? Has the doctor seen you today?”
“He says I’m doing great, all things considered. And they do give me some good drugs, so I’m not in much pain.”
That was a lie. Every breath reminded me of my broken ribs, and my shoulder throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. But I didn’t want her to worry more than she already was.
“He says I can go home in a few days,” I went on, “but can’t say for sure how many. They’ll probably move me out of the ICU soon. Good news, right? Thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful.”
“You’re welcome. I wanted to get you something you’d really enjoy, like a burger and fries, but I didn’t think you’d be allowed to eat that.”
I gave her a lopsided smile. “Not yet. Nurse Davies brought me a homemade muffin, and Nurse Chang brought me one of those fancy yogurts with bits of fruit and cereal in it.”
She shook her head, and I caught the flash of jealousy in her grin. “No woman can resist you, huh?”
“There’s only one woman I want, and she resisted me for years.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Seriously? Sweet talk?”
“You love sweets.”
I watched her smile, and something settled in my chest. This was what I’d almost lost. Not just my life, but this—the easy banter, the way she looked at me as though I was simultaneously the most frustrating and most beloved person in her world.
The near-death experience had stripped away all the noise, all the petty concerns and daily anxieties, and left only this truth: I wanted to spend whatever time I had left with her.
The doctors said I’d make a full recovery.
Weeks of healing, probably some physical therapy for my shoulder, careful movement until my ribs knit back together.
But lying in this hospital bed, I’d had plenty of time to think about mortality in a way I never had before.
My parents had been in their early forties when they’d died in that car crash.
Sometimes, when I’d ridden my bike, I’d pushed the speed, wondering what they’d felt in those last moments.
Whether they’d had time to be scared, or if it had been mercifully quick.
At least they went together. I thought the pain of one of them having to live without the other was worse than death.
It would be for me if I ever lost Jesse.
“Where did you get the tablet?” Jesse yanked me away from the darkness in my mind.
“Nurse Phillips. It’s her daughter’s. She was happy to let me borrow it for a bit.”
“I’ll bet.”
If I were in better shape, I knew she would have given me a playful punch.
I loved that about her, the way she didn’t take my charm seriously, the way she saw through all my bullshit to the real person underneath.
Lara had loved the surface Sebastian, the one who knew how to say all the right things.
Jesse loved the mess underneath, the scared kid who’d built walls with no doors around his heart.
Lucky for me, the woman knew how to handle a sledgehammer.
“How’s Robin?” I asked.
“He’s great. Janine brought him home this morning. He’s king of the house again.”
“He can have that title until I return.”
She grinned. “By the way, the girls and Cam were here last night. Cam will come and see you later today. They’ve all signed up to donate blood.”
Something warm expanded in my chest, pushing against my broken ribs. “That’s really amazing of them.”
“They love you, Sebastian. We all do.” She paused, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Also, Janine invited me to stay in your old bedroom at her place until you’re home.”
I stifled a laugh that turned into a grimace of pain. My ribs were definitely not ready for humor.
“I’m glad you didn’t take her up on her offer,” I managed.
“What would I find? Your Playboy collection? Some porn cassettes?”
I looked scandalized. “You mean video cassettes? Jesus, how old do you think I am?”
“Well, you’re older than me. I don’t know much about that era and its technology. I did see one of those old phones once, with the round thingy that you need to turn. Did you have one as a kid?”
I gave her my most lethal look, and she burst into laughter. The joyful sound of it eased something in my chest that had been tight since the accident.
“Not. Funny,” I said. “But maybe your current boss would like one of those. That McFarlane dude is certainly old enough to remember them. When is he coming back, by the way? Do you still have a lot of work to do before you finish with him?”
Something flickered across her face, so quickly I almost missed it. Her smile stayed in place, but it lost some of its warmth.
“I’m almost done with him. Just a couple of loose ends left. Today, I’m going to the store to catch up with Lucy.”
I filed that away to ask about later, when I wasn’t drugged and exhausted. Something had happened with McFarlane, I was sure of it. But I didn’t have the energy to push right now.
“Oh, okay.” I couldn’t hide my disappointment that she was leaving. “You’d better go. Thanks so much for coming.”
She stroked my hand. “I’d be here 24/7 if they let me. I’ll see if I can sneak in another visit this afternoon. Maybe your admirers will help?”
“Don’t be silly, you have too much stuff to do. You can’t commute to the hospital twice a day. I’ll only be here a few days.”
She squeezed my hand, and our gazes locked in a visual embrace.
In that moment, I wanted to tell her everything—how scared I’d been, how the accident had revealed everything I wanted from life, how I couldn’t wait to get out of this bed and start building a future with her.
But the words felt too heavy, too raw, and I was so tired.
“I can’t wait for you to come home,” she said softly.
“I can’t wait to get home either. Jesse, I’m sorry for putting you through this.”
“Let’s not play the blame game again, okay? The important thing is that you’re going to recover, and you will not ride a motorcycle ever again.”
“No, ma’am. I love you.”
She stood and bent to kiss me carefully. “I love you too. Rest and listen to the nurses.”
I watched her walk away, feeling like a lost little boy watching his mother leave on the first day of school. Pathetic, really. But I couldn’t help it. The accident had cracked something open inside me, and now all my emotions were too close to the surface.
She paused at the door to look back at me, and I raised my hand in a small wave. Then she was gone, and the room felt emptier, colder, despite the warm sunshine streaming through the window.
I lay back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.
In a few days, I’d be home. In a few weeks, I’d be healed.
And then I was going to do what I should have done the moment I realized I loved her—I was going to ask Jesse Nielsen to marry me.
Properly, this time. With a ring and flowers and whatever romantic gesture she deserved.
I’d been given a second chance. I wasn’t going to waste it.