Page 33

STACY

F ive minutes after the ambulance pulls in, they load Ray onto the stretcher—and something inside me splits wide open. It’s a stabbing certainty, sharp and clean, driving straight into my heart.

I love him.

No more pretending. Every second of panic during that fight, the way my chest clenched waiting for news, the hollow ache when I saw his broken body—it all adds up to one devastating truth.

I’m in love with Ray Crawford.

“OR One! Move it, people!” Monica’s voice slices through the chaos—firm, commanding, in control.

She doesn’t say anything to me directly, but the message is clear—Ray needs surgery. That’s what she meant back in Dawson when she said she’d done all she could. I clutch my arms around myself, helpless, and watch them wheel him away.

Raul, Sammy, and Erica show up a few minutes later, catching up to the ambulance I rode in with Ray. They find me in the waiting room. Raul sits beside me, his face scratched and bruised. He looks like hell, but then we all do.

“He’s in good hands,” he says, voice low.

I glance over.

“No offense, but I thought you’d be more upset. I mean... he’s your brother.”

His jaw tightens, and he looks away.

“Believe me, Stacy. I am upset—I just don’t want to show it here.”

“He means he doesn’t want to start breaking stuff,” Sam says, easing himself into the chair beside Erica.

“Man, what a night…” He rakes a hand through his hair, the motion slow and heavy with exhaustion. “I still hear that noise. That awful noise…”

“Now’s not the time for details,” Erica snaps. “We all saw what happened on that hill. Someone almost died.”

“I want to know,” I tell Sam, leaning forward. “What happened? How did Ray get hurt?”

Sam’s bravado slips. He looks at Raul, I’m not sure if he’s asking for permission or what. Raul shrugs.

“By being brave,” he says, then shrugs. “And maybe a little stupid. He rushed in to take on one of Dexter’s wolves.

He had that one handled—until another joined in.

We were all locked in our own fights, so he was left facing both.

Helena jumped in to help, but Raul… Raul was going toe-to-toe with Dexter himself. ”

He pauses, looking at his brother again. Raul grunts, shakes his head, then nods.

“Dexter had a plan. Two more wolves jumped Raul from behind. Ray couldn’t let that happen, so he went for it—tried to break away from the two he was already fighting.

But then Dexter’s lieutenants came out of nowhere.

Two more. That made four on him. Ray killed one.

I got the other. But by then…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “It was already too late.”

“How long has it been?” Raul asks, jerking his thumb toward the OR doors.

“Almost three hours,” Erica murmurs as she glances at the clock.

Then— thump. I jump at the sound. We all turn. Monica stands in the doorway, wiping her hands on her scrubs.

“Well?” I ask, breath caught in my throat.

“Good news,” she says, her eyes lighting up. “Ray’s going to be alright.” Her eyes light up. “I was worried about his leg, but the damage wasn’t as bad as we feared. It’ll take time for him to walk again, but he’ll recover. He’s going to be okay.”

Relief floods me like a warm tide, and I close my eyes, offering up my gratitude. “Thank God…”

“Told you he was in good hands,” Raul grins, hugging Monica. “Thank you.”

“Go see him, Stacy. Just don’t stay too long. The anesthesia and painkillers will have him drifting off soon,” Monica adds.

I offer a smile as I make my way past her and down the hall. It’s only been a few hours, but it feels like I’ve been waiting years to see him. The sharp scent of antiseptic clings to the air as I step into the room, sterile and too quiet.

He’s pale and still, wrapped in gauze from the waist down. Bruises bloom across his face and shoulders. Stitches mark the places that nearly stole him from me.

“Hey, handsome,” I whisper, dragging a stool to his bedside. “How’re you feeling?”

He cracks a smile. “Handsome? Don’t make me laugh—it literally hurts.”

“I wasn’t joking.” I trail a knuckle down the inside of his forearm, needing the contact almost as much as he needs the reassurance.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding slightly.

“So that’s it then,” I say softly. “Back to normal life. I return to my spreadsheets, and you go back to tuning engines.”

“Guess so.” His eyes are heavy with drugs and exhaustion.

I lean closer, until our faces are just inches apart.

“You’ve been through hell, so I’ll keep this simple. Is this it for us? You saved my life, and I’ll never forget that. But you live three hours away. And that’s real life talking.”

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he lifts a hand—slow, shaky—and cradles the back of my head, drawing me down until our lips meet. The kiss is soft, familiar, and full of quiet promises. A vow made without words.

That flutter in my chest returns—hope, longing, love—spilling through me like sunrise through dark clouds.

“How was that?” he murmurs, lips brushing mine. “Did that feel like the end of the line to you?”

“No, silly.” I smile and rest my forehead against his. “Just had to make sure you still passed the important tests.”

I draw back enough to look him in the eyes.

“This might not be the perfect moment, but I don’t care. I love you, Ray Crawford.”

He smiles, slow and wide. “I love you, too. And no, it’s not the meds talking. It’s me. Just… my heart.”

“I know.” I grin. “Monica said those meds are like a truth serum, so I’ll take that as gospel.”

“Stop teasing,” he groans, but there’s laughter behind it. “I’m in pain here.”

“I see that.” I press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose. “You focus on healing, okay? You still owe me that motorcycle ride to New York, remember?”

“I didn’t forget.” His eyes search mine, full of fire and something even stronger—commitment. “The minute I’m better, I’m taking you there. On my bike. Just you and me.”

That’s the Ray I fell for—determined, tender, and strong in all the ways that matter.

The man I met in the Catskills, who once seemed cocky and wild and completely out of reach.

But that version of him? That was just the surface.

This Ray—bruised and bandaged, but still smiling—is the real one.

The man who stepped between me and danger.

The man who fought tooth and nail for the people he loved.

The man who’s not afraid to show his heart, even when it’s stitched up and sore.

He doesn’t know it, but that one selfless act—saving me from a jealous wife—changed my life. He gave me something I’d been searching for longer than I even realized. A love that feels real. Not convenient. Not temporary. Real. Lasting. The kind that survives blood, sweat, and fear.

We earned this. We bled for it.

And now, we get to keep it.

Ray Crawford is mine.

And I’m his.

Always.