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“Let me see her,” I growl, storming into the hospital, my hospital, knocking over chairs and tables in my blind desperation to get to my wife.

The ER’s security guard—Frank, who I’ve gotten to know over the past few months and who I’ve shared countless late-night coffees with—steps in front of me, hands raised like that’s going to fucking stop me from getting to her.

“Doctor Walker, you can’t be in here like this.

” His voice is firm, but his eyes betray him, there’s real concern there, buried beneath the authority.

He’s never seen me like this before, hell I guess none of these people have.

I’m good at hiding this side of me. The version of me that shows up when I feel out of control.

Scarlett catches up, her grip locking tightly around my bicep. “I’ve got him,” she says quickly to Frank. “Just give me a second. I can calm him down.”

I shake her off without effort. Because no, there is no calming me down right now.

I sent Regan away. She left because I told her to.

And because of me, because I pushed her, she got into that car accident.

And now I need fucking answers, and I need them now .

Even if it costs me my job. Even if it means losing my medical license.

“Where is she?” I bellow, the anguish clawing its way out of my chest. I’ve never felt so out of control.

Even after finding out about Samuel’s death on the circuit and the bull he’d been riding, the ache of losing him felt nothing like this.

The guilt, the regret, it’s all crashing down on me.

Around me. If I felt like I was drowning before, this feels like death.

Scarlett shoves me down into a seat in the waiting area, steering me away from the gaping patients who don’t deserve to witness my breakdown.

And then the front doors burst open again but this time it’s Regan’s family.

Cash, Rae, Lydia, Lawson, Molly, Colt, and Troy—all still dressed in their wedding clothes, like they were just on the dance floor, mid-laugh, mid-toast, mid-living , when they got the news about their sister.

“You’re fucking dead. ” Colt’s voice is a razor against my already shredded nerves, and before I can blink, he’s in front of me, his fist colliding easily with my jaw. A clean, brutal punch I didn’t see coming.

My head snaps to the side, pain detonating in my cheek, but I don’t react.

Blood drips from my split lip down onto the pristine hospital floor and the plastic chair that I’m seated in.

I wipe it with the back of my already cut hand, then look up at him, my vision edged with black as Scarlett screams.

“More,” I taunt him.

Because if she dies, I die too. It’d be a happier ending than living without her knowing I’m the reason she’s here.

“You did this to her , ” he snarls, shaking with rage. “Molly told me that you told her to leave when she was upset. I’m not giving you the decency of another punch just so you can black out.”

Troy’s the one who steps in, lowering Colt’s arm as Cash and Molly drag him back, but the look in his eyes says if he weren’t the governor, he’d take a swing at me too.

Frank comes running up to us, half out of breath, his, voice like a thunderclap.

“If y’all don’t calm the fuck down, I’m throwing all of you out of here right now.

” His glare lands on me. “Doctor Walker, show some class for your position and Marshall family, you practically run this town, start setting a better example for the people watching you.”

I barely hear him. My breath shudders out of me. “Where’s my wife?”

“She’s not your wife!” Colt snaps over his shoulder as Cash hauls him toward the exit and out the front door.

And then I’m falling.

My knees hit the floor, and the room tilts, a dizzying mess of fluorescent lights and sterile white walls. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s the fear. Maybe it’s the punch I just took to the side of the head.

Or maybe it’s the sickening realization that I pushed away the only woman who ever saw me as more than the rodeo king turned doctor and didn’t hate what she saw.

Who saw how broken I was and the way that I push people away, only to stay steadfast next to me.

Now she might slip through my fingers before I ever get the chance to make it right.

Before I have the opportunity to thank her and tell her that I see her too.

Why didn’t I tell her sooner?

Why did I let my father’s cruel and unfair words get to me?

Why did I waste so much time pretending like I didn’t want her?

Regan didn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve any of this.

The doors to the back wing swing open, and my head snaps up. A doctor steps through—Doctor Singh, the newest hire at Whitewood Creek Community Hospital and my peer. Her gaze lands on me, and it’s not pity I see there. It’s disapproval.

Fuck, I deserve that too.

She’s been my coworker for months now. Technically, I’m her superior when it comes to what she’s dealing with tonight with my background in ICU residency. But right now, none of that matters. Right now, I’m just a desperate man—sweaty, drunk, bleeding on the emergency room floor.

“A word, Doctor Decker,” she says, her voice cool and detached.

I push to my feet and follow her down the hallway, my pulse hammering, my ears ringing. Doctor Singh walks stiffly, her chin lifted, her nose turned up slightly, and I know that she’s thinking I’m a disgrace to my position.

Add her to the list of people who do.

I swallow hard as we move behind the heavy doors back to a private stretch of hallway where the Marshall’s can’t hear us.

“How is she?”

“Doctor Walker, I’m not going to mince words. The driver was texting when they swerved into her lane. It was a head-on collision, and it was bad.”

The words punch the air from my lungs. I know what that means. I know how bad it can be, and I know the potential outcomes.

Doctor Singh exhales, glancing at the scans in her hands.

“The good news is, she came in alert. A little out of it, but talking. We ran a scan, and—” she hesitates, watching me closely before continuing, “—there’s significant swelling on her brain.

We needed to put her in a medically induced coma until the swelling subsides. ”

“No.”

Her expression hardens. “I’m her doctor right now, not you. And I’ve already made the decision, so I need you to respect that this was the right one when she arrived.”

“No,” I snap, louder this time, the word scraping out of my throat like it physically hurts to say.

Doctor Singh takes a measured step back from me, crossing her arms. “Please, for one second, try to separate your personal feelings from what’s medically necessary here to save this woman’s life and protect her brain.

We’re trained for years to handle situations like this.

I understand that feelings are involved here, but please trust that I would never risk my license by doing something that I didn’t feel was absolutely necessary. ”

She extends the scans toward me across the space between us—the chasm she’s created with her logic, with her level-headed professionalism, with the very thing I should be exhibiting right now but can’t .

My eyes drag over the images, frantic, scanning for any other possibility, any other option.

I don’t want to agree. I can’t agree with this plan. But fuck.

She’s right.

This is what’s best for Regan. It’s what will give her brain a healing chance. The swelling needs time to go down. She needs time to heal. It’s the same call I would have made if she were anyone else.

I rub a hand down my face, across my jaw, dragging at the skin like I can physically pull myself together from this nightmare.

“Fuck.” My voice cracks. “Fuck, she has to be okay, doctor. She has to come out of this okay.”

Doctor Singh nods, her voice softening. “You know as well as I do what the likely outcome is when she comes out of the coma.”

And I do.

I know exactly what’s waiting for us on the other side of this.

Best case scenario, a full recovery, some mild confusion and limited physical impairments.

More likely outcome, they wake up disoriented, confused, unable to form new memories or remember recent events, physical difficulties such as ligament movements or speech that require therapy.

And worst case scenario?

Permanent impairment, or irreversible brain damage.

I nod slowly, swallowing down the knot in my throat, forcing some semblance of composure. “Can I see her now?” My voice barely works. “Please.”

She hesitates. She shouldn’t let me. She knows s he shouldn’t. Not when I’m this much of a mess. But if she doesn’t, I’ll work tomorrow and I’ll come in here and see her anyways. What’s a few more hours?

I try to straighten, try to sober myself up, but I know I’m failing miserably. I’m still reeking of tequila and whiskey, my hand’s throbbing from the glass that’s planted in there, and my chest is full of regret. So, I plead with her.

“Please, Doctor Singh.” My voice wavers. “She’s my wife. I love her. She’s the love of my life.”

It’s not a lie. It’s actually the most honest thing I’ve ever said.

She exhales sharply, then nods. “Fine. But only from outside the room.”

I follow her down the hall, the air feeling heavier with every step.

We stop in front of one of the ICU rooms—one of the few we’ve managed to get up and running since we started this unit.

We have plans to expand it, hire some outside nurses who have the necessary skills that our hospital lacks, but for now, it’s just three small rooms and limited equipment.

I drag in a deep breath and force myself to look through the window. And then I wish I hadn’t. She’s not in her wedding dress anymore. She’s stripped down to a thin hospital gown, her head wrapped in stark white bandages, a ventilator tube down her throat, monitors beeping steadily.

And fuck it guts me.

Because I did that.

Because instead of pulling her aside at the wedding and telling her what I really wanted to say—how much I want her, despite my own fucked-up fears—I pushed her away.

I let my past dictate my future. Again. And now, this .

This crushing, unbearable ache, this self-inflicted hell that I’ve built for myself, knowing that if she wakes up, she’s better off without me.

Better off without me coming back into her life.

A dark, ragged sob rips through my chest. I turn away before it can break me completely, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, willing myself to breathe .

Doctor Singh watches me carefully. “Do you want to update her family?”

I nod.

Yeah.

And maybe this time, Colt will hit me so fucking hard, I won’t wake up from this nightmare.