Page 80 of Careless Hope
“Hey yourself,” she replied, her gaze darting around the room before settling on me. There was something new in the way she looked at me, like she was seeing parts of me not even I knew were there.
“Gray said you saved my life.”
A faint blush colored her cheeks. “I did what any doctor would do.”
“Didn’t know that included giving blood,” I quipped, trying to lighten the mood, but my attempt at humor fell flat in the space between us.
“Someone had to match your stubbornness with a stubborn act of their own,” she countered, the corners of her mouth twitching in a reluctant smile.
“Guess we’re both guilty of that,” I said, shifting awkwardly against the pillows. Our gazes locked, and for a heartbeat, there was just silence—a conversation held without words, where every hesitation and breath seemed to carry the weight of unspoken confessions.
“Caroline, I—” I started, but the exact words escaped me, like wild horses running just beyond reach.
“Shh,” she whispered, placing a gentle hand on mine. “Don’t talk. You need to rest.”
“Stay,” I found myself saying, the single word sounding more like a plea than I intended.
“I’m not going anywhere, Walker,” she assured me, her fingers intertwining with mine—a simple touch that somehow said everything.
The stillness of the room was a stark contrast to the chaos that had roiled within it just hours before. I watched Caroline’s silhouette against the window, her figure cast in soft light as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of fire and gold.
Last night, before you texted me for help . . . I’d been planning to come see you. I was hopin’ you would give me a chance to tell you how I feel.”
“Hope,” she murmured, turning away from the dusk to look at me. “It’s funny how that word seems so . . . small, yet it’s everything, isn’t it?”
“Especially when you thought you’d run out of it,” I replied, feeling the truth of my words in my bones.
“Maybe we never really run out,” Caroline said, squeezing my hand. Her eyes held mine, green depths reflecting a sincerity that reached inside me, soothing parts of my soul I didn’t know were frayed. “Maybe we just forget that it’s there, waiting for us to find our way back to it.”
“Or maybe it takes someone else to show it to us,” I added, thinking of how she’d burst through my defenses like a storm, unexpected and life-changing.
“Someone who sees the real you, beneath all the layers you put up?” Her voice was soft, but it carried the weight of recognition, of seeing and being seen.
“Exactly.” I let out a breath, realizing what I’d been denying, even to myself. “You know, I’ve spent so long focused on proving something, earning my place, that I forgot to hope for anything more than the day-to-day grind.” I hesitated, but the moment felt ripe for confessions. “But then you came back to Whittier Falls, and suddenly I found myself hoping for things I’d never let myself want.”
“Like what?” she prompted, her hand finding its way back to mine, her touch grounding.
“Like a future that isn’t just about work. Like a partner who challenges me, who doesn’t let me off easy.” I paused, the next words hanging between us like stars waiting to be wished on. “Like love, Caroline.”
Her breath caught, and she moved closer until she was seated on the edge of the hospital bed, her gaze never leaving mine. “I’ve always hoped for something too,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Something beyond the expectations everyone else set for me. I wanted . . . I wanted to find someone who would see past the doctor, the grades, the quiet girl from high school.”
“Did you find him?” I asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear it just the same.
“Yes, I did,” she said, the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile that knocked the wind out of me, even as her eyes filled with tears. “He’s this cowboy who drives me absolutely crazy, who’s infuriatingly charming and brave in ways he doesn’t even realize.”
“Sounds like a lucky guy,” I teased, my heart hammering against my chest with a mixture of nerves and elation.
“He is,” she agreed. “Because he has me completely and utterly in love with him.”
“Caroline,” I breathed out, the vastness of what we were admitting to each other settling into the space around us. “I’m in love with you too. I have been for weeks, I was just too scared to tell you.”
Our hands squeezed tighter, the simple act anchoring the enormity of our confession. There was a promise in that hold, an understanding that whatever came next, we’d face it together.
“Then I guess we’re both where we’re supposed to be,” she said, her voice steady but her eyes shimmering with emotion.
“Right here, together,” I affirmed, feeling the last of my reservations crumble away, leaving only the raw, honest truth of us. “Darlin’,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “You’ve got this way of making me feel like I’m coming home, no matter where I am.”
“Home isn’t always a place, Walker,” she replied softly, her thumb brushing over the back of my hand in slow, comforting circles. “Sometimes, it’s two hearts beating in time, finding peace in the chaos.”
