Page 1

Jennifer

Present Day

I ’m so not over him.

I clamped my fingers around Dylan’s, his pulse a faint stutter beneath my touch. His skin was clammy yet fever-warm, a fragile thread of life tethering me to the man I’d never stopped loving. A monitor spiked, its beep slicing through the stale antiseptic air, and my heart lurched.

A jolt of fear seared through my chest, piercing deep, as if the machine’s wail could snatch him away.

Even now, in a hospital bed, Dylan seemed larger than life—his presence powerful, pulling my heart toward him, demanding he stay.

He couldn’t die. Not when his voice, rough and forgiving, still echoed inside me, promising a second chance.

A hit-and-run had left him bruised, broken, and unconscious.

Imagining the screech of tires and shattering glass as he was run off the road shook me.

I sucked in a deep breath and told myself that how I felt wasn’t what mattered.

First, Dylan needs to wake up. Then, when he’s better, we’ll sort the rest out.

I lost him once. I can’t lose him again. Not like this.

I’m willing to forgive and forget a lot, but if you die, Dylan... I’ll find you on the other side and kick your ass up and down Heaven’s hallways.

My thumb traced the scar on his wrist, a jagged relic from the summer we sailed together when he tried treasure hunting in a shipwreck.

Dylan’s reckless grin, my shy laugh, that trip was magic.

The memory of it carried the tang of salt air, his sun-bronzed hand as I bandaged it, and the breathtaking way he thanked me all night long.

I paused over a faint tan line that implied the presence of a bracelet. The likelihood that it was from the silver one I’d given him as an engagement present was slim to nil, but my heart held on to a hope that he might have kept it.

I strained to remember if it had been on his wrist the last time I’d seen him, but stress was jumbling my memories. Guilt twisted my gut. I temporarily lost myself in memories of his whispered promises under the moonlit deck of his yacht.

Why, out of all the people in his life, had he chosen me to love, to trust.

.. to promise forever? Someone who hadn’t believed forever was possible.

I warned him, but he thought I was stronger than I was.

And what did I do? I believed his cousin’s lie that he’d cheated, confronted him without listening, and walked away.

The sting of that betrayal was an unhealed wound; my younger self’s fear, a ghost I couldn’t banish.

Even now, I could feel the heat of his gaze from that last fight, his eyes blazing with hurt and unspoken love, challenging me to believe him.

Years apart should have lessened how right it felt to hold his hand, but they hadn’t. His accident, so soon after he’d sought me out and we’d talked through our issues, made this feel like an opportunity to show him how I’d grown and matured.

I’m not young and confused anymore. I belong here.

My phone buzzed with a message from my best friend, Alyssa. I silenced it, my cold grip tightening. I’d update her later, this was more important. What would I say to her? Fear, love, guilt, and hope for a second chance? It was a lot. She was already amazed I’d dropped everything to be here.

Dylan’s driver, Steven, had called yesterday and shattered the fragile peace that had taken me years to cultivate. “Dylan’s hurt. Get your things. I’m coming to pick you up.” His voice had been a low growl, urgent and unyielding, pulling me into a storm I couldn’t refuse.

I hadn’t asked a lot of questions or hesitated. From what I understood so far, Dylan had been driving the day of the accident, and that wasn’t sitting well with Steven.

As I sat there, the beige walls closed in on me, monitors blinking like impatient sentries.

Their relentless pulse cast stark shadows, mirroring the dread knotting my chest as I watched Dylan’s shallow breaths.

The plastic chair dug into my back, its cold edge grounding my spiraling thoughts.

A worn stuffed elephant slumped on the bedside table, its frayed ears framing a note: You are not alone, Dylan.

You are loved. You are family. And you will always have a home with us.

It bothered me that I didn’t recognize the handwriting.

When he’d come to see me, Dylan had said it had been years since he’d spoken to his parents.

The note didn’t sound formal enough to be from them.

Someone loved him. Not knowing was the heavy reality hanging over my visit.

The elephant’s faded fur held a secret, a piece of Dylan’s life I’d been excluded from, stirring a pang of longing to know the man he’d become.

I wasn’t Dylan’s fiancée anymore.

We were no longer part of each other’s lives.

How much of the Dylan I knew was still in this man?

I brushed a lock of tousled hair from his swollen face. My fingers lingered, tracing the familiar curve of his jaw, a whisper of the boy who’d once stolen my breath with a single look. He wasn’t that boy anymore. This Dylan was a ski resort mogul who had rebuilt his life without me or his parents.

If he woke—no, when he woke—would he remember the girl who had danced with him under the stars and dreamed of growing old with him, or would he be unable to see past my betrayal? How would he feel about the woman I’d fought to become, scarred but fierce, ready to rewrite our story?

A shadow darkened the glass door. My breath caught. A man in a charcoal suit just stood there, his cold eyes assessing the room through the dim light. He held a phone, his thumb hovering over the screen, as if debating a call. Not a doctor—not with that stare.

Steven exchanged words with him, but I couldn’t hear what was said.

Their voices were a muffled storm, tense and charged, hinting at dangers I couldn’t name.

Was he questioning my right to be there?

Their conversation ended abruptly with the unknown man walking away.

My pulse hammered, but I returned my attention to Dylan.

The door swung open. Steven stormed in, boots hitting the floor like drumbeats before a battle. The air thickened with his presence, his leather jacket creaking softly, a warrior’s armor in this sterile war zone. “Jennifer,” he growled, his voice low, “you should get something to eat.”

“I’m fine.” I straightened my spine, forcing strength into my voice despite the tremor in my hands. “Who were you talking to just now?”

Steven’s shadowed eyes darted toward the door then back to me. “Some insurance guy who thought this was a good time to ask questions.”

I frowned. “Dylan can’t answer anyone right now. I can’t believe he’d think it was appropriate to come here.”

“That’s the point I made clear. He won’t be back.”

“Good.” I let out a shaky breath. “I thought he might have been questioning if I should be here. I’m not leaving him, Steven. Not unless I’m forced to.”

“You belong here.”

I swallowed hard. “He’s not married.”

“Correct. I wouldn’t have brought you to him if he was.”

“Does he have someone in his life?”

“No. He’s complicated, but he was trying to find a way back to you.” His words were a spark, igniting a reckless hope that Dylan still had feelings for me.

But complicated ? I wasn’t ready for what that might mean. “Did they find who did this to him?”

“No. No one saw a thing.”

“With so many cameras, the police should be able to get a lead, right?”

“They should,” Steven said in a tight voice.

Since my arrival that morning, someone had been standing at Dylan’s hospital room door as if they were guarding him.

“It was probably a drunk driver. Or a teenager. Right? No one would hurt Dylan on purpose.” My voice trembled, a frail hope against the dread curling in my belly, but Steven’s grim silence shattered it.

“There’s no way to know yet, but everything is being taken care of.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Now that he’s stable, he’ll be moved to a private wing of the hospital. There’ll be an option of a bed for you there if you decide to stay tonight.”

“I’m staying until he wakes up,” I said hoarsely, then glanced at the stuffed elephant and note. “However, I don’t want to be the reason no one else visits him. I can step away to give someone else time at his side.” Tears filled my eyes. “I’m just glad you allowed me to be here with him.”

In a deep tone, Steven answered, “Stay with him. It’s what he would want.” God, I wanted to believe that. “When he wakes, he’ll probably be... disoriented.”

A nurse entered the room—her name tag read “Bethany”.

Her smile was gentle, an attempt to soften the room’s sterile weight.

Her rubber soles squeaked faintly on the polished floor, a soft counterpoint to the machines’ relentless humming.

“It’s so quiet in here now,” she said, her voice warm but measured.

“We’ve had folks lined up to see him for days.

Haven’t seen this many visitors since our local librarian’s heart scare.

” She launched into a story about a chess club the woman had started, her words a distraction I wanted to swat away.

A pang of guilt stabbed through me. She was only doing her job. None of this was her doing. “What can you tell me about how he is?” My voice, when I found it, was a thread of sound.

Bethany’s cheerfulness gave way to something softer. “He took a bad hit. Head trauma. A few broken ribs.” His bandaged chest rose faintly with each labored breath.

“It’s been days. Is he in a coma?”

“No. Just unconscious.” She hesitated, her eyes ricocheted from Steven to me again.

“We were worried about brain swelling, but his scans are clear. His vitals are stable. The neurologist they flew in said there’s no reason your friend shouldn’t be awake.

” She rolled her eyes. “His theory? Dylan doesn’t want to wake up.

That’s why you’re here. I was telling his family—”