Page 42

One week later…?

I know the protocol.

I fucking know the protocol.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I want to the one in that room when she wakes up.

“It should be a person that she’s known for a long time. People she loves and doesn’t feel any strong emotions toward,” Doctor Singh says, and like clockwork, every single person in the room pointedly avoids looking at me.

Because fuck , she barely knows me, and I’m the whole damn reason she’s been in here for the last seven days waiting for the swelling on her brain to subside.

Molly straightens her spine and forces a smile. “I’ll go. We’ve been best friends since we were kids. She’s always been like a sister to me.”

Doctor Singh nods and Colt steps up beside her, his hand resting on his wife’s waist, silently declaring that he’s going, too.

Fine. Whatever. They’re twins. They were in the womb together.

Of course, he gets to go despite absolutely hating my guts right now and probably wishing I would leave them alone to be with their sister.

“Okay,” the doctor continues, “just remember—she may need a moment to recognize you and process what happened. We don’t know how much she’ll remember about the accident or if there will be any memory gaps, physical limitations, or cognitive effects.

Just… don’t hit her with anything jarring.

Let her wake up and get her bearings. It’ll be a short visit today, then we’ll let her rest. After that, she can have longer visits once we assess how she’s doing. ”

“When can she leave the hospital?” Molly asks.

“That’ll depend entirely on her and our physical and mental assessments.”

I know all of this. I’ve done a residency in critical care.

I’ve seen accident victims come out of both long and short-term comas, their recoveries playing out in every possible way.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t hope Regan is the exception.

That she wakes up, pulls out her IVs, rushes into my arms, and kisses me senseless like we’re in some fucking movie where I can finally tell her that I love her.

That I want to be her husband for real, none of this fake bullshit, and that I’m so damn sorry I let my own fucked up past fracture what we were starting to build.

Molly nods, then moves toward the door with Colt at her side.

I step back, out of their way, standing at the window, watching and hating every second of this.

But I deserve it. Because I did this. And worse, she probably doesn’t even want to see me.

Not the guy who practically shoved her into a car that night.

Not the guy who sent her out and away when she begged me to stay.

Molly and Colt slip into the room, walking carefully toward the hospital bed where Regan is propped up, her body smaller than it was a week ago against the too-white sheets.

Molly reaches for her hand, rubbing her fingers over it gently, while Colt looms over her, all tense and protective.

His gaze flicks to mine through the glass, and I see it all over his expression. The anger and the spite.

And I don’t blame him. I don’t blame any of them. Because they don’t know what Regan and I had. What we have still if I hadn’t fucked everything up.

And then it happens. The slightest flutter of her eyelids before those bright blue eyes full of life open slowly.

I let out a sigh. Probably the same one I’ve been holding for the last week. Scarlett’s hand tightens around my bicep in support, while Cash and Lawson murmur somewhere behind me, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

My girl.

She’s awake. She’s alive. She’s okay. We’re going to be okay. I just have to apologize. I have to fight for her.

Inside the room, Molly leans in closer and I see her lips move. “Hi. ”

I wish I were in there. Wish I could hear them. But thankfully, I’ve gotten damn good at lip-reading from my days riding on the circuit when you’d get a leg up if you could see what your competitors were saying.

“Hi,” Regan says, I can hardly make out her scratchy voice before she starts coughing. Colt is immediately there, handing her water. She takes a long sip before clearing her throat. “What’s going on?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Molly explains. “ There was an accident. You were hit by a car.”

Regan processes that, nodding slowly. If she remembers that night, she doesn’t show it. It doesn’t register as good or bad on her face.

“Am I okay?”

Molly smiles. “You are.”

Regan exhales, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she leans back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. And then, then she says something that guts me clean through. The first person she thinks of coming out of a coma...

“Where’s Declan?” she asks.

Molly freezes, just for a second, before glancing at Colt. His jaw clenches as he grips her shoulder.

“ He’s probably at work right now,” he hedges. Then, carefully, “Regan, you and Declan broke up.”

“Broke up?” Her brows knit together, and my stomach fucking drops. “When? ”

Molly hesitates. “Um… what’s the last thing you remember?”

Regan’s face scrunches in concentration, and I swear I can hear my heart pounding in my skull. My breath is coming too fast. Because if she thinks she’s still dating Declan, then I’m completely, utterly fucked.

“Christmas… and the brewery... I remember it opening. The new one we built in town,” she says.

Molly hesitates again, then nods. “ It did. ”

And I see it—the moment Regan starts to realize something is off. That she’s missing time in her memories.

She nods, more to herself than anyone else. “I don’t know what I remember last… it all feels a little fuzzy.” Her eyes dart back to Molly. “What month is it?”

“Um, it’s the end of April…”

“April…” She whispers the word to herself before leaning back again, lips pressing together as she works through it.

Molly and Colt exchange glances, both watching her carefully like they aren’t sure if they are pushing her too hard or upsetting her.

“She seems to be handling this well,” Scarlett murmurs.

Cash grunts in response.

But I can’t stop looking at her. Can’t stop seeing her. She’s alive. She’s awake. She’s right there. She might not know the month, but this is better than most in my experience.

Then, like she hasn’t already sucker-punched me into the goddamn ground, she sits forward again, and her next words nearly fucking kill me.

“Will you ask Declan to come visit? I’d like to talk to him.”

Molly freezes. Colt’s jaw tightens.

And me?

I feel like I might throw up.

But Molly forces a nod. “Yeah. Of course. Is there anyone else you’d like to see?”

Regan shakes her head. “Cash and Lawson if they can make it but maybe not today. Do I get to leave soon?”

“I think the doctors want to keep you a few more nights for observation.”

Regan sighs. “Okay.” A pause. “Is my dad alright?”

Molly nods. “Yeah, babe. He’s doing okay. He’ll stop by to see you soon.”

“Will you tell him to have a pumpkin pie waiting for me when I get home?”

Molly hesitates again, just for a second, before nodding with a smile. It’s certainly not pumpkin season, but if Regan wants pie, I’ll fucking fly to wherever pumpkins are growing and make her one fresh. Learn exactly the way she likes it and practice it until I’ve nailed the recipe.

“Sure.”

And then the doctor steps back into the room, rattling off details about her condition and recovery. Molly and Colt move toward the corner, and as Molly’s eyes meet mine through the glass, I see it, the silent panic and the slight apology in her head shake.

I swallow hard, my pulse hammering because I knew this was a possibility I’d just hoped it wasn’t our reality. She doesn’t remember me, and the chances of her forgiving me are even lower now.

“I have to tell her,” I murmur more to myself than anyone else.

“No, you don’t.” Cash’s voice is firm, final, from somewhere behind me.

I turn, ready to square up with her older brother, my fists already tightening. I’m older. Wiser. More experienced. That’s what I want to tell him but even that doesn’t feel true. Plus, that’s not what this is about.

This isn’t about me. For once I need to stop being so goddamn selfish and think about what’s best for Regan. And fuck—if I don’t start remembering that I might lose her all over again.

“She needs to know the truth eventually. That she married me and why. You can’t just lie to her.”

“She will,” Scarlett says softly, her touch grounding me. “She just woke up. I know you want to talk to her, want her to forgive you, but give her a second.”

I nod, but my eyes are locked on the hospital room where Regan hasn’t looked my way once. Fuck, this is killing me. Then the door opens, and Colt and Molly step out. Molly hesitates before moving toward me, her expression full of regret.

“I’m sorry, Hayes. It doesn’t seem like she remembers you or anything that’s happened the past four months.”

I shake my head. “It’s not over.”

“I’ll call Declan and let him know—”

“You’re really going to have him come here?” I demand, my voice sharp. “Don’t you think that’s going to confuse her?”

“It might be good for her to see him,” Colt says, his voice steady, unreadable. “To hear from him herself that they broke up. To help jog her memories.”

“You can’t honestly believe that” I snap, my pulse hammering. “That guy wants her back. He told me as much at our fucking rehearsal dinner.”

“Maybe,” Colt allows, “but you can’t just bulldoze your way back into Regan’s life when she doesn’t even know you or remember what you two did.”

“She remembers five months ago, Colt. Not five years ago. Her memories will come back.” My gaze flicks to the group standing around us, searching for reassurance, finding abso-fucking-lutely nothing. And what if her memories don’t come back?

Doctor Singh steps out of her room, flipping through her chart. Inside, Regan lays back against the pillows, her head turned toward the window, oblivious to what’s happening out here.

I swallow hard. “Her recent memories will come back, right?” Panic seeps into my voice despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

Doctor Singh smiles softly. She knows as much as I do that it could go either way, but I need someone to reassure me here.

“It’s very likely. She wasn’t in a deep coma, and it was medically induced to control the swelling. It’s common for patients like her to have some memory loss of their most recent experiences.”

I nod, gripping onto that like a lifeline. “See?” I turn to her family again, my voice edged with desperation. “Her memories are going to come back.”

But their faces don’t change. They just look at me with quiet, familiar pity.

Scarlett steps closer, wrapping an arm around me. “Let’s go get something to eat. You’ve been here for over a week.”

“I can’t leave her.” My voice cracks, and I feel the sting of tears pricking at my eyes.

“I know, but you have to. Now isn’t the time to tell her everything. Now is the time to let her rest.”

I force a slow nod, letting Scarlett steer me down the hallway toward the cafeteria and away from my girl