Crashed(book three)(143)

But his eyes look tired, battle weary, and concerned. He leans forward and takes the hand I’m reaching out.

“Hey,” I croak as I shift from the discomfort in my abdomen.

“Hey,” he says softly, scooting forward to the edge of his seat, and I notice his shirt has been replaced with a pair of hospital scrubs. “How are you feeling?” He presses a kiss to my hand as my tears well again. “No.” He rises, sitting his hip on the edge of my bed. “Please don’t cry, baby,” he says as he pulls me against his chest and wraps his arms around me.

I shake my head, feelings running a rampant race of highs and lows through me. Devastated at the loss of a child—a chance that I might not ever get again despite the dash of possibility this whole situation presented—and at the same time guilty feeling relief because if I had been pregnant, where would that leave Colton and I?

“I’m okay,” I tell him, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, drawing strength from the steady pulse beating beneath my lips, before leaning back on my propped up pillows so I can look at him. I blow out a breath to get my hair out of my face, not wanting to use my hand and break our connection.

The look in his eyes is so intense, jaw muscle clenching, lips strained with emotion, that I look down at our joined hands to mentally prepare myself for the things I need to say to him but fear his responses. I take a deep breath and begin. “We need to talk about this.” My voice is barely a whisper as I raise my eyes back up to meet his.

He shakes his head, a surefire sign of the argument that’s about to fall from his lips. “No.” He squeezes my hand. “The only thing that matters is that you’re okay.”

“Colton …” I just say his name but I know he can hear my pleading in it.

“No, Ry!” He shoves up off the bed and paces the small space beside it, making me think of him on the side of the freeway yesterday, overwhelmed with guilt. Was it just yesterday? It feels like a lifetime has passed since then. “You don’t get it, do you?” he shouts at me, making me cringe from the vehemence in his voice. “I found you,” he says, his eyes angled to the ground, the break in his voice nearly destroying me. “There was blood everywhere.” He looks up and meets my eyes. “Everywhere … and you …you were lying in the middle of it, covered in it.” He walks to the edge of my bed and grabs both of my hands. “I thought I’d lost you. For the second time in one f*cking day!”

In an instant, his hand is holding the back of my neck tightly and he’s pressing his lips possessively against mine. I can taste the raw and palpable angst and need on his tongue before he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, hand still tight on the back of my neck while his other one comes up and cups the side of my cheek.

“Give me a minute,” he whispers, his breath feathering over my lips. “Let me have this okay? I just need this … you … right now. To hold you like this because I’ve been going out of my f*cking mind waiting for you to wake up. Waiting for you to come the f*ck back to me because, Ry, now that you’re here, now that you’re in my life … become a part of me, I can’t f*cking breathe without knowing you’re all right. That you’re coming back to me.”

“I’ll always come back to you.” The words are out of my mouth before I can think, because when the heart wants to speak it does so without premeditation. I hear him breathe in a shaky breath, feel his fingers flex on my neck, and know how hard the man who’s never needed anybody is desperately trying to figure out what to do now that the one thing he’s never wanted he suddenly can’t do without.