And fuck it guts me.
Because I did that.
Because instead of pulling her aside at the wedding and telling her what I really wanted to say—how much I want her, despite my own fucked-up fears—I pushed her away. I let my past dictate my future. Again. And now, this.This crushing, unbearable ache, this self-inflicted hell that I’ve built for myself, knowing that if she wakes up, she’s better off without me. Better off without me coming back into her life.
A dark, ragged sob rips through my chest. I turn away before it can break me completely, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, willing myself to breathe.
Doctor Singh watches me carefully. “Do you want to update her family?”
I nod.
Yeah.
And maybe this time, Colt will hit me so fucking hard, I won’t wake up from this nightmare.
Chapter 33: Hayes
One week later…?
I know the protocol.
I fucking know the protocol.
But that doesn’t change the fact that I want to the one in that room when she wakes up.
“It should be a person that she’s known for a long time. People she loves and doesn’t feel any strong emotions toward,” Doctor Singh says, and like clockwork, every single person in the room pointedly avoids looking at me.
Becausefuck, she barely knows me, and I’m the whole damn reason she’s been in here for the last seven days waiting for the swelling on her brain to subside.
Molly straightens her spine and forces a smile. “I’ll go. We’ve been best friends since we were kids. She’s always been like a sister to me.”
Doctor Singh nods and Colt steps up beside her, his hand resting on his wife’s waist, silently declaring that he’s going, too. Fine. Whatever. They’re twins. They were in the womb together. Of course, he gets to go despite absolutely hating my guts right now and probably wishing I would leave them alone to be with their sister.
“Okay,” the doctor continues, “just remember—she may need a moment to recognize you and process what happened. We don’t know how much she’ll remember about the accident or if there will be any memory gaps, physical limitations, or cognitive effects. Just… don’t hit her with anything jarring. Let her wake up and get her bearings. It’ll be a short visit today, then we’ll let her rest. After that, she can have longer visits once we assess how she’s doing.”
“When can she leave the hospital?” Molly asks.
“That’ll depend entirely on her and our physical and mental assessments.”
I know all of this. I’ve done a residency in critical care. I’ve seen accident victims come out of both long and short-term comas, their recoveries playing out in every possible way. But that doesn’t mean I don’t hope Regan is the exception. That she wakes up, pulls out her IVs, rushes into my arms, and kisses me senseless like we’re in some fucking movie where I can finally tell her that I love her. That I want to be her husband for real, none of this fake bullshit, and that I’m so damn sorry I let my own fucked up past fracture what we were starting to build.
Molly nods, then moves toward the door with Colt at her side. I step back, out of their way, standing at the window, watchingand hating every second of this. But I deserve it. Because I did this. And worse, she probably doesn’t even want to see me. Not the guy who practically shoved her into a car that night. Not the guy who sent her out and away when she begged me to stay.
Molly and Colt slip into the room, walking carefully toward the hospital bed where Regan is propped up, her body smaller than it was a week ago against the too-white sheets. Molly reaches for her hand, rubbing her fingers over it gently, while Colt looms over her, all tense and protective. His gaze flicks to mine through the glass, and I see it all over his expression. The anger and the spite.
And I don’t blame him. I don’t blame any of them. Because they don’t know what Regan and I had. What wehave still if I hadn’t fucked everything up.
And then it happens. The slightest flutter of her eyelids before those bright blue eyes full of life open slowly.
I let out a sigh. Probably the same one I’ve been holding for the last week. Scarlett’s hand tightens around my bicep in support, while Cash and Lawson murmur somewhere behind me, but I can’t take my eyes off her.
My girl.
She’s awake. She’s alive. She’s okay. We’re going to be okay. I just have to apologize. I have to fight for her.
Inside the room, Molly leans in closer and I see her lips move.“Hi.”
I wish I were in there. Wish I could hear them. But thankfully, I’ve gotten damn good at lip-reading from my days riding on the circuit when you’d get a leg up if you could see what your competitors were saying.
