“God, no.” I collapse to my knees, my hands the only things keeping me from completely falling against the deck. Margaret rushes forward to help me catch my fall and wraps her arms around me. Jamie and Liam are silent as they jump into action to get us back to the shore. Margaret squeezes my shoulder, trying in vain to reassure me.
“We’ll get to her as quickly as we can. We have to believe she’s going to be okay.”
I can’t respond. I just sit and stare at the horizon. Then, I put my head in my hands and weep. I don’t care who sees me. Instead of the usual prayer I say when we dock, I pray Maddie will be spared. Please, just let her live.
And then the bargaining begins. I’ll do anything. Make any promise to anyone. Give up everything I have.
All the same—just like I bargained for Adeline.
The hospital’s fluorescent lights are too bright, buzzing overhead as I push through the doors to Maddie’s wing of thehospital. Wes called me on the way in and assured me she was alive, but I had to see it for myself. The sharp scent of antiseptic floods my senses—I feel numb.
I find Hannah sitting near the reception desk, her eyes swollen with tears and her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She’s staring straight ahead, slouched in her chair. I approach her. She glances up and straightens, her expression a mixture of relief and worry.
“Room?”
“Two-oh-four,” she answers quickly. “She’s stable. It was touch and go at first, but she’s going to be okay.” I let out an audible gasp.
“Scott, Maddie didn’t—”
I give her a terse nod and continue down the hallway, my boots thudding against the tile floor. Each step is heavier than the last. The knot in my chest tightens as I imagine what I might find when I open the door.
When I push it open, the sight of Maddie stops me in my tracks. She’s pale against the white hospital sheets, her damp hair clinging to her forehead. She’s been wearing an oxygen mask, which has since been removed. They’re treating her for mild decompression sickness. She’s small and fragile, nothing like the woman in my bed just this morning, full of determination and fire. Her eyes flutter open and her lips curve into a weak smile.
“Hello,” she rasps, her voice barely audible.
I stay by the door for a moment, taking her in and reassuring myself she’s alive. It should be enough. But the anger and fear swirling inside me won’t settle down. I step closer, my voice tight and controlled. “You’re okay.” I’m reassuring myself rather than her.
She nods weakly. “I’m fine. Just… shaken up. I—”
“What happened?” My words are clipped as I interrupt her. My tone is harsher than I mean it to be.
Her gaze drops, guilt flickering across her face. “My hair… got caught,” she explains, trembling. “I panicked. Wes helped me. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. On the boat, I couldn’t breathe.”
My heart clenches. I want to wrap her in my arms and comfort her, but the anger is too fierce. I don’t trust myself.
“You could’ve died,” I choke out, the words snapping out before I stop them—the thought of losing her, burying her, crashes over me hard and fast.
“I know,” she whimpers, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry… Please forgive me.”
The weight of her apology settles over us, heavy and suffocating. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. She’s weak. I don’t want to beat her down any further. “You’re alive. That’s what matters right now. Get some rest. You’ll need it.”
Her fingers twitch like she wants to reach for me but, she doesn’t. Clutching the sheet, she opens her mouth to say more. Her eyes stare into mine, pleading.
I cut her off. “Take care of yourself. Focus on that. We’ll talk more about this later.”
Before the storm inside me spills over, I turn and leave the room, ignoring her tiny voice call for me to stay and resisting the urge to turn back.
The late afternoon air is stale as I step outside the hospital and make my way through the parking lot. I lean against the hood of my truck, replaying the last few minutes. Her pale face and the guilt in her eyes. She lied to me. What has she done to us? She could have died. The thought of her dying today twists something primal inside me. I close my eyes, exhaling slowly.What do I do now? Just this morning, I was planning to get on my fucking knees and ask her to marry me. I’m a fool. Letting her go is the logical thing to do. I can’t trust her. She’s been sneaking behind my back, trusting that asshole with her life while she makes love to me every night. I can do the math. I know she did this because I told her no and the fucker said yes. How could she do that? She’s not the woman I thought she was. I slam my fists down on the hood.
“Damn it!” I let all my anger out on the truck. Before I smash the windows, I get in and start the engine instead.
My boots slam against the weathered planks of the dock. I focus on the man leaning against a piling near his sleek boat. He’s been waiting for me. His arms crossed, his face as infuriating as ever, although he’s not smiling.
I stop a few feet from him, keeping my voice low. “We need to talk.”
Wes pushes off the piling and steps closer. “I figured after you called.” He gestures toward his boat, his tone cautious. “How about we take this onboard? Grab a beer, talk it out like we’re civilized men?”
I don’t move. “This isn’t a friendly chat, Harrington.”
