I nod once.
Three fucking days.
Three days without her voice, without her laugh, without that smirk she gives me when she’s about to tear me a new one. Three days without her calling me an asshole while her fingers curl around my shirt like she never wants to let go. Three days of silence after I almost lost her for good.
The doctor walks off, giving me space I didn’t ask for, and I stand there. Frozen in the middle of the hallway like a man whose world is still spinning, just without the gravity of her in it.
“I’m staying,” I whisper, more to the hallway than to anyone around me. “I’m staying right here. In this goddamn lobby.” I lean back, as my head tilts to the ceiling, throat tight with unshed sobs. “I don’t care if I have to sleep on the fucking floor.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I’m not leaving until I know my girl’s okay.”
Two days.That’s how long I’ve been living in this fucking lobby.
Maverick’s sprawled across three chairs beside me, one arm slung over the backrest, the other holding a half-eaten bag of vending machine pretzels. He’s still wearing the same hoodie and backwards hat he arrived in. His legs are stretched so far out into the aisle, nurses have tripped over him twice.
“You know,” he says, tossing a pretzel into the air, catching it with his mouth, “this might be the longest you’ve ever sat still without yelling at someone or punching a wall.”
I don’t respond. Reed doesn’t either. He’s sitting across from us, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. His eyes are steady, but the muscle in his jaw keeps twitching.
Maverick tries again. “If they don’t bring her out soon, I’m gonna start drawing boobs on the nurse’s whiteboard. Or maybe a little cowboy with a lasso, give this place some flavor.”
Still nothing from me.
“Jesus,” Maverick mutters, biting another pretzel in half. “Tough crowd.”
Reed lifts his eyes, giving him a look that says,Now’s not the time.
Maverick shrugs. “I’m trying, man. The only thing more depressing than this hospital is Carter’s face right now.”
I run a hand down my face—beard thick on my jaw, eyes probably bloodshot and sunken in. I haven’t slept, eaten, or showered. My boots are still crusted with dirt from the ranch, and my hoodie smells like hay, sweat, and a faint smell of her scent.
Footsteps echo down the hallway. I glance up, and it’s not a nurse. It’s Amelia.
She stops a few feet away, her green eyes scan over all of us before landing on me. She looks hesitant, like she’s still deciding whether or not to say what she came here to say. Her black hoodie swallows her frame, sleeves pulled down over her tattooed hands.
Maverick sits up, sensing the energy shift.
She speaks softly, eyes still on mine. “I was wrong about you, about all of it.”
I don’t answer.
She steps a little closer, voice low. “I said some shit I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know it wasn’t just some... fling.”
I let out a tired breath. My eyes stay fixed ahead, locked on the same damn wall I’ve been staring at for forty-eight hours. “Thought we were just fucking, right?” I bite out.
Amelia doesn’t reply. She nods, remorse written in every line of her face.
I lean forward, elbows resting on my knees, as my palms rub together to give my hands something to do besides shake.
“I love her.”
That gets everyone’s attention.
I don’t look at any of them when I speak. I keep staring ahead, letting the words settle like dust in the quiet room.
“She’s chaos, fire, and she burns so damn bright sometimes it hurts to look at her. She argues like it’s her love language, slams doors just to come back two seconds later, and asks if we can get matcha. She leaves glitter in my truck, wet towels on the floor, and sings off-key when she thinks no one’s listening.” I let out a breath. “But she’s also hurting, and I see that. I see every broken part of her; she tries to hide behind that loud mouth and those sharp comebacks. Every crack she’s been taught to cover up. Every piece someone else told her was too much.” I finally lift my head, my eyes glassy and tired. “And I love every single fucking one of those pieces. Not just the pretty parts, not just the parts she lets people see. I love the messy shit too. The scars, panic, the nights she can’t sleep, and the way she still flinches when someone raises their voice.” My voice drops lower, thick with emotion I can’t swallow down anymore. “If she falls apart a million times, I’ll help her put herself back together a million and one. I’ll hold the pieces when she’s too tired. I’ll be the fucking glue if that’s what she needs. I don’t care how long it takes or how much it hurts.” I shift forward, rubbing my thumb against my palm. “She’s not hard to love. The world just made her believe she was. But I’ll spend the rest of my life proving otherwise if she lets me.”
Silence stretches around me. Amelia’s wiping under her eyes now, trying to be subtle about it. Reed won’t even look at me—his jaw’s too tight. And Maverick… he leans back slowly, shaking his head with a low whistle. “You’re really that gone for her, huh?”
I nod once, no hesitation. “She’s it for me.”
