She looked sosmall. So young. Her arms were scraped raw. One of her shoes had fallen off, the other still dangling from her foot like a sad afterthought.
The nurse read off vitals, and they weren’t good.
“Push fluids. Start dopamine. Let’s get her pressure up now.”
Someone handed me scissors. I didn’t hesitate. I sliced the shoulder of her shredded shirt and exposed her chest, heart racing as I placed leads for the monitor. Her skin was cold. Too cold.
She wasn’t just critical.
She wascrashing.
I glanced at her face—swollen, bloodied, barely recognizable—and something inside me cracked.
A nurse leaned over. “She’s posturing.”
My stomach lurched.
“Prep for intubation,” I said, voice like stone. “Now.”
There wasn’t time to panic. There wasn’t time to grieve or rage or scream at the man in the next room who’d put her here. Right now, I was the only thing standing between Charlie and brain death.
And I would not lose her.
The chaos had quieted,but nothing felt still.
Chase was in Observation. Alone. Shirtless. A bloodstained bandage wrapped around his shoulder, a line of butterfly strips marking the gash over his eyebrow. His face was pale, splotched with dried blood and bruises.
I paused in the doorway, forcing one last deep breath before stepping inside.
His eyes fluttered open at the sound of my footsteps. “Elena,” he rasped, like the word hurt coming out.
I stopped beside his bed, trying to steady my voice. “Charlie’s stable.”
His body tensed.
“She’s in an induced coma,” I continued. “She has a traumatic brain injury. We’re monitoring the pressure, keeping her sedated to give her a chance to heal.”
His jaw clenched. Hard. “Is she gonna be okay?”
“I don’t know.” The truth tasted bitter. “She’s alive. That’s all I can promise right now.”
He closed his eyes, just for a second, and let out a breath that sounded like it scraped his lungs raw.
“You shouldn’t have let her on that bike,” I added quietly.
His voice was low and raw. “I didn’t plan to crash.”
“No one ever does.”
The silence dragged, taut and brittle.
Then he shifted, eyes narrowing. “That cowboy still around?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Guy with the hat. The one at your house.”
Seriously?
