Page 17 of Claimed by the Cowboy (Havenstone: Mail Order Brides #3)

Tom

The following minutes blur together—sirens, paramedics crowding into the living room, brisk voices firing questions I can’t process fast enough. One of the EMTs slides a needle into Kitty’s arm while the other fits a mask over her face.

“Nebulizer treatment, just in case,” he says, his tone clipped.

Medicine mist fills her mask, fogging the plastic, and all I can do is hold her hand—small, limp, terrifyingly still compared to mine.

My thumb strokes circles over her knuckles, not for her this time, but for me.

If I stop touching her, stop anchoring myself to that fragile warmth, I’ll come apart .

“I’m riding with her,” I tell the EMT, my tone brooking no argument.

“Sir, we have limited space?—”

“I’m riding with my wife.” The words come out flat and final, with enough steel to hide the quake in my chest.

“I’ll follow with Delaney,” Luna says quickly before my sister-in-law can argue.

The ride is a blur of flashing lights and rushing pavement.

I sit wedged against the gurney, my hand wrapped around Kitty’s, watching the rise and fall of her chest under the mask.

Too shallow. Too slow. Every breath feels like it’s being stolen from me, and I force my lungs to keep moving.

If I let myself think about what happens if hers stop—if I lose her—I’ll break.

“Stay with me, Kitty-Cat,” I murmur, leaning so close my breath stirs her hair. “Keep those beautiful eyes on me.”

But by the time we reach the ER, those eyes are closed, her body frighteningly still.

The world becomes a whirl of fluorescent light and motion as hands and voices swarm us.

Luna squeezes my shoulder before peeling away. “I’ll be in the waiting room—I’ll call Angus and let the rest of the family know what’s happening.”

A middle-aged man in a white coat steps into the chaos, his voice steady as it cuts through the noise. “I’m Dr. Morrison, attending on duty. Who is the primary contact for medical decisions?”

“That’s me,” Delaney says immediately. “I’ve always?—”

“Actually,” I interrupt, my voice calm but unyielding even though my heart’s slamming against my ribs, “that’s me now. I’m her husband. Legal next of kin.”

Delaney’s expression flickers—shock, hurt, uncertainty. “I’ve always been the one to speak for her when she couldn’t, Tom. Since we were teenagers?—”

The doctor raises a hand. “Legalities can wait,” he says briskly, though not unkindly. “Right now, my priority is treating the patient. If you have her history, allergies, prior records, I need them now. ”

Delaney thrusts the thick folder toward him.

“Everything’s in here. Every admission, every medication, every lab result for the past decade.

Asthma since she was four. Allergic to penicillin and sulfa drugs.

Last hospitalization was three years ago.

Rescue inhaler didn’t work this time. This isn’t asthma. ”

“Good.” The doctor is already flipping pages as nurses move swiftly around Kitty. “That will help immensely. We’ll get her down to radiology and run some tests.” He turns, leveling his gaze at me. “Is there any chance she could be pregnant?”

My heart lurches. “I… We…”

He nods, already reading between the lines. “I’ll add a pregnancy test to the orders.”

I bend down, pressing a kiss to Kitty’s damp forehead. “I love you,” I whisper, fighting to keep my voice steady.

Delaney leans in on the other side. “Love you, sis.”

For a moment, Kitty is framed between us—the sister who carried her through the worst of her childhood, and the husband who vowed to carry her through everything else .

Then the gurney jolts into motion, wheeling her away. Delaney and I stand shoulder to shoulder, rooted to the floor as the doors swing shut behind her.

Can’t lose her. Can’t lose her.

Delaney’s whisper breaks the silence. “I’ve been managing her care since she was thirteen.”

I exhale hard through my nose. “And you’ve done a damn good job. You’ve carried her through things I can’t imagine.” I glance down at her, my voice rough with the truth. “But she’s my wife now. That means the final decisions fall to me.”

Her throat works, but she says nothing.

“She needs both of us,” I add firmly, pushing my fear down where it can’t paralyze me. “You’ve got the history. I’ve got the authority. She has the best shot if we work together. Can I count on you?”

The fight drains out of her as though she’s been holding her breath for years. Her shoulders sag, eyes shining.

“Yes,” she whispers. “ Of course. Partners?”

I manage a smile, though my chest feels like it’s splitting open. “Partners.”

The next few hours crawl by in a haze of fear and uncertainty.

Ten minutes feels like an hour as the clock on the wall ticks relentlessly.

The waiting room feels too bright, too clean, too calm for what’s tearing through me. White walls, gray chairs, the quiet hum of a vending machine—all of it wrong when my wife is somewhere behind those double doors, fighting for her life.

Delaney paces the length of the room like a caged cat. She stops only long enough to look at me, her eyes sharp but rimmed with fear. “What if it’s neurological? Or cardiac? What if?—”

“Stop.” My voice is harsher than I meant it to be. “We don’t do what-ifs. We wait. We stay steady. For her.”

She bites her lip and nods, but I can see the fight it takes for her not to unravel.

My phone buzzes. Angus.

I step into the hallway and swipe to answer.

“How’s she doing?” he asks immediately.

“Unconscious. They’re running tests.” My throat works around the words. “No answers yet.”

A pause, then Angus blows out a breath. “Tom, we found something. Henry was checking fence lines where our land borders Uncle Jacob’s and came across heavy machinery set up upstream.

Three locals, running equipment that’s dumping runoff straight into the creek.

Looks like they’ve been there for a while. ”

My chest goes tight. “Runoff?”

“Looks chemical. Industrial. And it feeds straight into the well-water at Havenridge.”

The well-water? The water that Kitty’s been drinking while she works in the herb garden.

For a second, the red haze of fury nearly blinds me. I force it down, grinding the words out between my teeth. “Don’t touch them. Don’t say a word. You wait for me. ”

“Tom—”

“No.” My voice drops, cold and final. “This is mine. If what I suspect is true, they’ll answer to me.”

Silence hums on the line before Angus answers quietly, “Then we’ll hold. But don’t take too long, brother.”

“I won’t.” I hang up, fighting to leash the storm roaring inside me.

I shove the phone back into my pocket and drag in a breath, trying to compose myself before I reenter the waiting room.

Delaney’s still pacing, her boots scuffing a sharp rhythm against the sterile floor.

She stops the second she sees me. “Tom?” Her voice is taut with fear. Her eyes search my face, catching the storm I can’t quite hide. “Are you okay?”

I open my mouth, the words heavy on my tongue— no, I’m not, and when I get my hands on the bastards who did this, they won’t walk away —but before I can speak, the door opens and a nurse steps in.

“Mr. Sutton?” Her gaze lands on me. “Mrs. Sutton has been moved to an observation room so she can be monitored more closely. You can see her now. The doctor will be in shortly with her test results.”

Relief and dread crash together in my chest. I glance at Delaney, and for the first time since this nightmare began, her shoulders ease the tiniest fraction. Without a word, we move in unison, following the nurse down the hall..

When we reach the room, the nurse slips away, leaving us outside the door. My hand hovers on the handle, but Delaney touches my arm.

“Go in first,” she says softly. Her voice is steady, but her eyes shine. “She’ll want you. Take a few minutes with her. I’ll come in after.”

I hesitate. Delaney’s been at Kitty’s side her whole life—protector, caretaker, sister. For her to step back now costs her something. I can see it.

“Thank you,” I murmur.

She nods once, quick and tight, then folds her arms as if bracing herself. “Go on, Tom. Don’t make her wait. ”

I push open the door and step inside, my chest tightening when I see Kitty small and pale against the white sheets, a nasal cannula tucked beneath her nose. The monitors beep steadily at her side, and though she’s awake, her eyes are hazy, fighting the fog of medication.

But when she sees me, they brighten, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe.

“Hey, husband.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to break me open.

I move toward her, reaching for her hand. “Hey, wife,” I murmur, leaning in until my forehead rests gently against hers. “You scared the hell outta me, darlin’. Seeing you fight for every breath—” I stop, jaw clenching.

She squeezes my hand. “Glad you’re here, cowboy.”

I kiss her temple, breathing her in. “Nowhere else on earth I’d be, sweetheart.”

“What… what happened?” Her brow crinkles as if she’s trying to remember.

I smooth her hair back gently. “We don’t know yet. Doctor will be in soon with answers.”

I don’t want to share my suspicions until I have concrete proof.

Her lips part like she wants to press me further, but then she exhales, her hand trembling in mine. “Feels like my chest finally let go a little. Oxygen helps.” Her eyes drift toward the IV bag, then back to me. “Whatever they pumped into me”—her mouth curls up in a faint smile—“good shit.”

A broken laugh escapes me, equal parts relief and fear. “Trust you to get the good stuff while I’m having a heart attack over here.”

A soft knock sounds, and the door cracks open. Delaney steps inside slowly, her face blotchy from tears she must’ve shed in the hall.

“Hey, sis.” She approaches the bed and leans down to wrap her arms carefully around Kitty, mindful of the wires and tubing. “You scared the life out of me.”

Kitty hugs her back weakly, managing a faint smile. “Ah, you know me. Drama queen. ”