So my story seems to have come full circle. I find myself in the same position, just a different time. There is no way fate could be this cruel, but I’m living proof that it is.

I don’t know how many days it’s been since I last spoke to Sam. Three, maybe four. Everything from the moment he told me Saxon was involved in an accident forward has been a blur.

The details were vague. He’s in St. Mary’s Hospital in Portland, and I was to come quick.

As much as I hated to leave, the moment the line went dead, I was on the way to the airport, booking a ticket back home. Thanks to the airstrikes, I had to wait a couple of days.

Having no communication with the outside world, the not knowing, is far worse than the truth, and by the time I boarded the plane, I was beyond exhausted. But every time I closed my eyes, my mind conjured up scenarios that prohibited sleep. In the end, I simply sat motionless, counting down the seconds until I landed.

The moment I stepped off the plane, the severity of what I was facing hit me, and I ran faster than I’ve ever run before. It was light out, but I had no idea of the time. That didn’t stop me from hailing a cab and asking him to take me to the hospital and not to be shy about breaking the law.

We arrived thirty minutes later, which is now.

I stand in front of the tall white building, which houses the fate of my future. Saxon is inside, but what exactly am I walking into. A sense of peace surrounds me, but the manicured gardens and well-tended blooms are an illusion, there to soften the blow.

Gripping the straps of my backpack, I walk up the stairs, proud of myself for not dashing into the foyer like a madwoman. I will not overreact. I will think positive and brush negativity from my mind.

However, when the marbled counter comes into view, memories crash into me, and I suppress a whimper. The young nurse with earrings that look like pink glitter baubles smiles. I focus on the shimmer and not on the sharp, medicinal stench which stings my nose. “Hello, Miss. Can I help you?”

“Hi. I was wondering what room Saxon Stone is in?” I could have called Sam the moment I landed, but my cell had died, and I didn’t have time to spare.

“Sure. Let me just check for you.” She tinkers away at the computer while I dig my fingernails into my palms. “He’s in room 317. Go up this hallway, take the third left…” As she’s giving directions, all I can think is thank god, he’s not in intensive care. Or worse. It can’t be that bad, right?

Once she’s done, I thank her, before following her instructions. Natural light fills the long hallways, brightening the stark white paint. A sense of stillness walks in my footsteps as I hold hands with positivity, but it’s in vain when I take the third left. The farther I venture, the darker and more suffocating things become.

A dull beige replaces the white, and the light has been throttled, giving way to darkness. The tone is quiet, nurses whispering, visitors dabbing at their red-rimmed eyes. When I pass a chapel, a gut-curdling wail fills my gut with dread. Nevertheless, I refuse to give into the doom and gloom, but my steps become a brisk walk.

Please let me turn the corner and return to the light, I chant over and over again.

As I watch the numbers above the doors, though, my optimism soon makes way for realism because I come to a stop in front of room 317. The curtain is drawn, so I can’t see who’s inside. A small part of me hopes there’s been some mistake, but I must let go of the dreamer and embrace the realist Lucy because I’ll need her when I walk over that threshold and into this room.

Hushed voices are coming from inside—a man and a woman. “No change. Any signs of life?”

“None.”

Unable to stomach this a second longer, I charge inside, my squeaking sneakers on the linoleum making my presence known. “Hello?”

A doctor in a white coat peeks his head out from around the curtain. “Hello? May I help you?”

“I’m Saxon’s…friend. How is he?” I hate to refer to myself this way, but if I were of importance, the hospital would have contacted me by now.

The furrow lines around the young doctor’s face have me feeling faint. “He’s stable for the moment. Have you spoken to his family?”

“Just his brother, Sam. I’ve been in Syria for work.” Sweeping my hands downward, I hope to explain my ratty appearance as I haven’t had a chance to shower or change my clothes. “Can you please tell me what happened?”

This is possibly against all hospital protocol, but the doctor must sense the desperation in my tone. He emerges fully, closing the curtain behind him. His actions have me wondering what state Saxon is in. “Mr. Stone had a motorcycle accident. He was struck by a truck and fell down a twenty-foot embankment. He’s sustained a very serious head injury. At the moment, he’s in an induced coma to give his brain time to heal.”

“All I really remember is looking over that embankment and seeing my best friend’s broken body.” It appears fate has a sick, twisted sense of humor, after all.

“How long has he been in a, a…coma?” That word fills me with dread.

“He was brought in four days ago. We’ve taken him out of the ICU because…”

“Because why?”

“Because his condition has not changed. It’s not worsened. Or improved.” In other words, Saxon is a lost cause. They’d rather give that bed to someone who has a hope of surviving.

“Is that a good or a bad thing?” I know what the answer is, but I need confirmation.

He reaches for his chart off the wall. Looking it over, he sighs. “We’d hoped to see some response by now. There is very little brain stimuli.”

Oh god. I hug my middle, disbelieving that I’m here once again. “May I see him?” I whisper, my need to be close to him leaving me breathless.

“Of course. The nurse is just cleaning him up. She won’t be a minute.” With nothing left to say, he replaces the chart and goes to leave. However, he stops and touches my shoulder. “Don’t be alarmed when you see him.” His assurance has the opposite effect, but I’m thankful nonetheless.

The respirator and other beeping machines sound loudly, which gives me an insight into what I’m walking into. Yes, I have lived through this before, but this is so much worse. “You can come in. I’m almost done,” says a soft voice from behind the curtain.

Wiping my sweaty palms onto the legs of my jeans, I know winding myself up will never prepare me for this, so I step forward and gently pull back the curtain. It takes me a moment to process what I’m seeing because the sight before me is beyond words.

I blink once, dumbfounded, and unsure if I’ll ever be the same again.

“It’s okay, you can come closer.” But that’s the thing, I can’t. If I move a muscle, I’m afraid of crumpling into a heap.

“That’s…that can’t be him,” I whisper in a faraway tenor, refusing to believe that the broken and bruised man lying in that bed is Saxon.

“We had to shave his head. There was extensive fluid on his brain, which we had to drain.” That would explain the bandages wrapped tightly around his head. “He broke five ribs and fractured his neck. This machine is helping him breathe.” I know there are far more injuries, but she’s sparing me the details. “All we can do now is hope and pray.”

“What?” I ask, almost awaking from a slumber. “There isn’t anything more you can do?” She pulls up the starchy blanket, tucking him in tight.

“Until he wakes, there isn’t much we can do. But he’s in the best hands. We’ve got the best head trauma unit in the country. You can sit with him.” I haven’t moved an inch, still rooted to the spot, utterly numb.

When she passes me, I recognize the look she wears—pity.

Long after she’s gone, I finally find my feet and stagger toward Saxon’s bedside. The closer I get, the more apparent his extensive injuries become. His face is battered and bruised, appearing swollen due to the breathing tube providing him life. His chest rises and falls steadily, but I know that’s thanks to the respirator.

He barely looks like the man I love with every inch of my heart, but when I reach his bedside, his colorful tattoos catch my eye. The gravity of what I’m seeing hits home, and I crumple into the chair, sobbing. I’m responsible for this. If only I’d fought harder…insisted he stay. Or if only I’d stayed.

This is what nightmares are made of, but I’ll never wake from this dream because this is real. Reaching for his hand, his cold, lifeless hand, I stroke my thumb over his grazed knuckles. Bringing his fingers to my lips, I kiss each one, remembering the way they loved me, caressing me any chance they got.

“Oh god. This is all my fault,” I cry quietly, his passivity cementing that he’s lost in a world I will never be able to save him from. “But I’m here now…and I promise, I’ll never leave your side again.” With tearful eyes, I examine the machines keeping him alive, hoping to see any signs of life. But all I see is Saxon slipping away from me. A hole is ripped through my heart, and I feel nothing but emptiness.

Shuffling forward, I gently place my ear to his chest, needing the fervent rhythm to block out this pain. His smell is long gone. A sharp medical tang replaces his familiar muskiness. “No,” I sob, crawling onto the bed and burying myself into the crook of his neck. I wrap my arms around his neck and inhale him into me, wishing I could breathe my life into him.

Underneath the bitterness, I can smell him. My love. My life. “I’m so…s-s-sorry,” I weep, holding on tighter with no intention of ever letting go. “Fight…please. Don’t let this be it. I never—” my chest trembles uncontrollably as I attempt to speak without breaking “—I never got a chance to tell you that I love you. That you’re it for me. You always have been. You have to wake up. I can’t do this without you. My heart isn’t just breaking…my entire body is. Please…come back to me.” I’m sobbing uncontrollably, holding Saxon as we lie side by side. “You’ve always protected me. So now, it’s my turn to protect you.”

“Will you take care of me?”

“Yes,” he replies after a drawn-out silence.

“You promise?” I know this can’t last forever, and I’m afraid.

He counters with so much emotion, his sincerity brings tears to my eyes. “Yes, I promise.”

“For how long?”

Pause… “For as long as you want me to.”

As I fall into a deep sleep, the word, “Forever,” replaces good night.

I remember those words as if they were only spoken yesterday.

“You promised me forever,” I whisper, rubbing my nose against the length of his neck. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to end.”

“Lucy?” For a split second, I allow myself to believe that my name slipped through the lips of my beloved, but I can’t pretend, it hurts too much.

“Hi, Sam.” I clutch Saxon, shuffling closer so we’re pressed together snugly. I don’t care that I resemble a madwoman. Touching Saxon to ensure he’s real is all that matters.

“When did you arrive?” he asks. I can hear him entering the room.

“Just a few minutes ago.”

The bed dips, indicating Sam has taken a seat. “Did you see his doctor?”

“Yes.” I close my eyes.

The silence is drawn, Sam most likely figuring out what to say. But there isn’t anything he can say. Even when he was in the same position Saxon is, I had hope. Now, all I’m left with is this insufferable pain siphoning off my air supply.

“Any change?”

“No. He’s still unresponsive. Do you know any other details? I know he was run off the road.” The similarities to Sam are uncanny, but why does this feel far more gruesome?

“Not really. His workmates have been in and out. They said he left without a word…but wherever he was going, he was in a rush to get there.” This small shred of information only stirs more questions than answers. What was he doing? Where was he going?

“He’ll be okay, Lucy.” Sam gently rubs my leg, offering me hollow words of comfort. The urge to throw up suddenly overcomes me, and I shoot up, giving Sam a near heart attack as I run to the bathroom.

Once I’m done being sick, I cradle the toilet bowl, my tears bouncing off the porcelain. Before this tragedy occurred, I was faced with a prospect which now seems like the most important thing in the world. Splashing my face with cold water, I peer at my reflection, giving myself a scare at how worn-out I look. There is no animation behind my eyes because my life is lying in that hospital bed, comatose.

Rubbing a small circle over my belly, I know it’s time to find out once and for all. “Will you sit with him? I just need to go to the pharmacy,” I ask Sam as I exit the bathroom. He sits in the blue plastic chair beside Saxon.

His broken reflection is a mirror image of mine. His hair is snarled, his stubble is shaggy, and the bags beneath his eyes reveal he’s had as much sleep as I have. “Of course. I haven’t left his side. Neither have your parents.”

“My parents? They’re here?”

Sam nods. “Yes. Piper is back home, trying her best to look after the ranch. But your parents and I, we’ve taken turns. He hasn’t been alone.” Those words touch me beyond belief because knowing he’s had someone by his side ebbs away at the grief. “I thought you’d need them here too.”

A fresh set of tears sting my eyes. “Thank you, Sam.”

“For what?” He genuinely looks puzzled.

“For being here for him…when I couldn’t.”

He lowers his gaze, sighing regretfully. “I owe him.” Nothing but sadness laces his admission, and regardless of the past, of everything said and done, blood is thicker than water. Both Stone brothers have proven this. That in spite of their differences, they will always stick by their kin.

And this is the reason I fell in love with them both. They’re empathetic, strong, but most of all, they are good.

“I won’t be a minute.”

“Take your time.” A sense of peace settles over me knowing Sam is with Saxon.

Once we ended things, Saxon took off on his Harley without a word to Sam. He could have argued or thrown punches, but what would be the point? It didn’t change the truth. Throughout this entire ordeal, Sam and Saxon were able to reconnect. Even if it was for a small fraction in time, those memories are real. If my naivety, my need to see the world through rose-tinted glasses was able to bring them together, then that’s one thing I did right.

The pharmacy is downstairs, so I catch the elevator to the ground floor. These walls have seen so much sadness, but as I reach for a pregnancy test on the shelf, I also realize it’s seen some miracles as well. I can only hope I bear witness to one too.

I pay for the test, asking the cashier to put it inside a paper bag. There is no hiding from the truth, but I can’t do this now. Here. If it proves positive…the thought is too heartbreaking to process.

My stomach gurgles, and I don’t know if that means I’m hungry or if I need to throw up. At this stage, I’m betting on the latter. I make my way back up to Saxon’s room, relieved the nausea has subsided for now. That relief is short lived however when I hear a voice filled with complete malice address me. “You have some nerve showing your face here… You should be…”

“Cleo! That’s enough.”

My head snaps up, unsure if I’m really seeing Cleo and Hogan standing up ahead. But when she comes charging down the hallway, fire behind her eyes, I know they are. Hogan grabs her arm, but she shrugs violently from his hold.

“This is all your fault!” she yells, disregarding my personal space. But I don’t flinch. “If only you’d stayed away from him, he wouldn’t be in that fucking hospital bed!”

She’s right. This is my fault. If only I’d begged him to stay. Or if only I’d gone when he asked me to leave, things would be so different. “I’m sorry,” I state, refusing to cry.

“Save your apologies. They mean nothing to the dead.”

A gasp leaves me, but that’s soon followed by rage. I am seconds away from slapping her cheek. How dare she. “He is not dead. I know you’re upset, but we all are, and talking that way doesn’t solve anything. It was an accident, and yes, of course I blame myself…”

“So you should!” she exclaims. Hogan stands at her back, his eyes lowered. His stance is that he agrees with her. He may not like her delivery, but he stands by every word that she says. He knows something, they both do, and I’m about to find out what.

“Hogan?” He guiltily meets my eyes. “Do you know where Saxon was going?” After a few still seconds, he nods. “Where? And why didn’t you tell Sam?” The pieces of the puzzle are there, but the disorder clouds my vision.

When more silence greets me, my tether snaps. I’m breathless, clutching onto the paper bag, afraid of the truth. “Hogan? Tell me!”

Sam emerges from Saxon’s room, apparently wondering what the commotion is about. I know there’s a reason he didn’t tell Sam, and that reason is…me.

“Lucy…”

“Lucy? You’re Lucy?” The nurse from earlier approaches me, looking among us all. We look seconds away from brawling. I instantly regain my composure, embarrassed.

“Yes. That’s me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t connect the dots earlier. Can you come with me?” Her request leaves us all speechless, pacifying the riot for now.

“Sure.” Honestly, I’m annoyed she intervened because Hogan was about to deliver a bombshell. And the farther away she walks, the farther away I am from Saxon’s room. But without a choice, I follow, visually letting Sam know I’m all right.

Now that I’m away from the battle zone, I wonder why she wants to see me. And what dots she didn’t connect. I find out soon enough when she opens a door, welcoming me into her office. The small confines suddenly have me wishing that whatever she needed to say could be said outside.

“Come in and close the door.”

“O-kay.” Now I am entirely intrigued. She rounds her wooden desk piled high with files and sits in the leather chair.

“Please take a seat.”

“I’ll stand,” I counter, anxiously awaiting an answer to why she brought me in here.

“I’ve been caring for Saxon since he arrived.” I nod, gesturing she’s to continue. “The first thing we do is attempt to find out who our patient is.” She opens a drawer, producing a yellow envelope. “Once we do, we contact their next of kin.”

My fingers dig into the back of the leather chair in front of me.

“We found Saxon’s wallet, but we also found this.” She extends the envelope while I peer down at it, puzzled. “This belongs to you.”

“Wh-what is it?” I ask, swallowing.

“I’ll give you a few minutes,” she replies, which just incites the butterflies further. She gently places the envelope on her desk, protecting the cargo as if it were gold. When she brushes past me, her kindness once again surrounds me. “Take all the time you need.” I want to ask her so many questions but within reach is all the answers I seek.

Before she leaves, I query, “Why would you give this to me? And not Sam?” She smiles, but it’s buttered with bereavement.

“I felt it was for your eyes only.” And with that, the door closes, sealing me in with my fate.

Eyeing the package, I take three measured breaths. Saxon would laugh at me, tease me for being afraid of opening a harmless envelope. I can hear him now, and it gives me the strength I need.

“Every scar means you were stronger than whatever tried to beat you.”

And he’s right. Both Saxon and I have scars, both inside and out, but we never surrendered. And I’ll be damned if I do so now.

Tearing open the seal, I reach inside, my fingers passing over a small envelope. There is something else, caught in the corner, something light, but I withdraw the document first. It feels like a letter. How can a simple letter warrant such secrecy?

Running my fingertip over the crease, I slowly open it and answer my own question the second I see the eloquent handwriting. I instantly slam the pages together, tears gathering. There is no mistaking Saxon’s hand wrote this.

Something else is inside the smaller envelope, but I decide to tackle this one step at a time.

“No matter how bad your memories, it’s still your history. It’s your legacy. You should write it down. This way, you can always look back and remember that you survived. You lived.”

His words have never rung more true. I owe him this. I owe it to us. To the life he lived, and to the life he will live.

Honoring his memory, I unfold the pages and get lost in the words of my one true love.

 

Dearest Lucy,

I have so much I want to say, but I’m afraid I’ll forget because the moment I look into your eyes, nothing else exists but us. So I’m writing it all down because I want to get it right. And besides, I’ve always been better at writing how I feel.

I never thought missing someone could hurt this much, but the moment I left Montana, I was left with a massive hole in my chest. At the airport, I wanted so badly to wrap you in my arms and stop you from leaving. I know you felt me there, how could you not? You and I, we are connected. Call it kismet or fate, I don’t know. Whatever it is, I just know that a part of me is missing when you’re gone.

If I could go back to the day we met, I would. I would have grown a pair and told you it was me and not Sam. You see, I blamed Sam all these years, and yes, he fucked up, and hell yes, he lied, but I did too. I lied to you, but most of all, I lied to myself. I was so afraid of the love I felt, I was certain I would fuck it up. So I did nothing…and that’s just as bad as Sam’s deceit.

This whole experience has taught me that no one is perfect…not even you. I was so angry that day you told me you loved Sam. I knew it, but to actually hear you confess to it tore out my heart. But I needed to hear it because it made me realize just how much I love you.

I don’t care that you’re still working out your feelings for Sam because in the end, you chose me. Not once did you question your decision, but as you said, things just got messed up along the way…but that’s called living.

I can’t stay mad at you for being honest with me because this entire time, that’s all you’ve ever done. Your heart is so big, Lucy, and if I stayed angry with you for helping my brother, then what kind of a person does that make me?

You taught me to love unconditionally and forgive. Forgiving Sam doesn’t change the past, but it does change the future. And I realize that I forgive him, and that’s thanks to you. He did what he did because he loves you…I can’t blame him for that.

Love isn’t easy, and you have to make mistakes to find the right answer. You, Lucy, have always been the right answer. The saying rings true—you have to lose something to truly value its worth. And I can’t lose you…not again. You’re my sun, my moon…you’re my heart. You taught me strength, yet you’re my greatest weakness…but in the end, we only regret the chances we didn’t take, so this is me, taking a chance.

I don’t care where we live, as long as I’m with you…we will figure it out along the way.

I want you to look up now because…I’ll be on bended knee, hoping you’ll say yes when I ask you to marry me. You’re my heart. And I’ll forever be your armor.

Yours always,

Saxon.

 

Oh…god.

When I come to, I’m slumped against the wall, sobbing a lifetime of tears. The letter is pressed over my heart as I struggle to breathe past the ugly tears. These words mean everything to me because in my palm, I’m holding my second chance. By some miracle, Saxon wants to marry me.

I recall an object inside the larger envelope, and with quivering fingers, I open it up and peer inside. What I’m greeted with takes my breath away once again. The sparkling diamond catches the light, cementing this as being real.

I’m almost afraid to touch it because I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. I handle it as I would a newborn, gently lifting it and cradling it to my chest. An empty cry leaves me because this moment is bittersweet.

Saxon was going to give me this letter. And this ring. But I don’t think he was about to mail it.

The heavy weight in the smaller envelope taunts me because I know what’s inside. The final piece is within reach. Without further ado, I reach for the item, and a single tear rolls down my cheek. It’s Saxon’s passport.

He was on his way to the airport to give me this, and now…he’s in a coma...because of me. He was coming to Syria to propose. To tell me that he felt exactly as I do. But fate intervened once again and showed me what a cruel bitch she could be.

Needing confirmation, I storm from the room, desperately seeking Hogan. I need him to finish what he was going to tell me. I don’t have far to look. He’s pressed up against the wall, running a hand down his face. Something, apart from the obvious, is very wrong.

“Hogan?” He lifts his head, his watery eyes revealing that it’s something big. “What’s happened?”

“The doctor is with Sam.” That’s all I need to hear as I sprint into the room. The doctor from earlier is chatting softly with Sam, who appears to be wheezing for breath.

“What’s going on?” Sam’s gaze snaps my way. He simply shakes his head, encaged with utter grief.

“Lucy, I was just telling Samuel that it’s time you thought about turning off Saxon’s life support. I know it’s not an easy decision to make, but—”

“But no,” I interrupt, madly. “It’s only been four days!”

“Four days without any response. His brain is showing no activity, and his body…his heart…it simply can’t cope.”

“Sam, no. Tell them no,” I beg, interlacing my fingers.

“I just want what’s best for him.” He wipes at the corner of his eye with the back of his hand.

My anger is misdirected because Sam is clearly as affected as I am, but all I see is him giving up when Saxon never did on him. “Him living is what’s best for him.” I point at the machine, my fingers trembling. “If you turn that off, I will never, never forgive you.” The decision doesn’t rest with me. I’m not his next of kin.

“Lucy…”

But I don’t want to hear his reasoning. “No, we’re done. You know where I stand.” I can’t be in here, so I leave, needing to clear my head.

Hogan is still by the door. “Wanna take a walk?” he asks, sensing my impending meltdown.

I walk on autopilot, a thousand thoughts rattling around my head. Hogan gives me space, but I won’t be able to rest until I ask him if my gut feeling is true. When we step outside, the air is cool, only adding to the wintriness within.

Rubbing my arms, I jump into the deep end. “Saxon was on his way to the airport, wasn’t he? When he crashed his bike. He was coming for me.”

“Yes.”

The truth hasn’t set me free. It’s only tightened the manacles around my heart.

“Cleo was right. This is my fault.” I close my eyes, the hollowness eating away at me.

“No, this is not your fault. It was an accident.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but if it wasn’t for me…Saxon wouldn’t be where he is today. Not only have I broken his heart…I’ve now broken his spirit as well.” I don’t want to cry, but I can’t keep these emotions at bay. How am I supposed to live with myself knowing what I’ve done?

“You stop that, you hear?” Hogan spins me around to face him. “You made that boy happier than he’s ever been in his entire life. All he did was talk about you, and when he wasn’t, he was thinking about you. You could see it every time you crossed his mind. You were his light, and if he dies in that bed—” an empty sob escapes me “—you need to know that it was his choice to go. And he wouldn’t have this any other way. He’d rather be where he is than living a life without you.” I can’t stand it any longer and fall into Hogan’s arms, weeping.

“He was going to propose,” I reveal around my tears. The evidence lies deep in my pocket. “And he f-forgave m-me.”

“Shh.” Hogan consoles me while I break, unsure if I’ll ever mend again.

Once I finished sobbing, I excused myself because I needed some time alone. There was only one place for silence, where most people seek solace. But before I lost myself in the stillness, I had to do something once and for all.

The pregnancy test lies in my bag, and as I sit in the chapel, I wonder what happens when I find out the results. Which way do I want the scales to tip?

I’m on my own, but I suppose you’re never really alone when in a place of worship, and the small confines are surprisingly comforting, providing the support I need. Taking a deep breath, I reach into the front pocket of my bag, my fingers passing over the test—the tiny strip which will change my life forever.

However, panic hits me and I freeze, terrified of finding out the result. Please, if anyone is out there listening in, give me a sign that it’ll be okay, whatever the result may be. A ray of sunshine beams down, lighting up the stained-glass window in all its beauty. Focusing, I see that the imagery is that of a young child, holding someone’s hand. Nothing but love and happiness radiate from this image, and a sense of peace grips me tight.

Waving goodbye to my fears, I draw out the test, the one I took in the bathroom earlier and watch the world change around me. I thought I’d be manic, but I’m not. I’m nothing but calm.

“Oh my, Lucy…you’re… pregnant?” my Mom asks. She’s chosen the right moment to come find me.

“Yes, Mom, I am.” I’ve never needed my mom’s touch more than I do right now. She is aware of my silent plea and offers me the love only a mother can give—a love I now possess. She pulls me to her chest like I’m five years old, and I cling to her like I am. She promises that things will be okay, but it has to be. It’s not just me anymore.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. We came as soon as Sam called. We tried calling you…”

“I know. It’s okay. There’s no need for apologies. I’m here now, and that’s all that matters.” I unfold myself from her hold because eventually, I will have to face this reality.

She appears just as fatigued as I am. “How far along are you?”

Shrugging, I shamefully confess, “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling sick for a while. I just thought it was stress.”

“You’ve been through so much. It is so unfair.” She gently rubs my arm. “I just came from Saxon’s room. Sam told me what the doctor said.”

I nervously tug at the frayed hole in my jeans. “And what do you think?” Her response has the power to destroy me.

“I think now is all the more time to fight.” She glances down at the test in my lap. “Saxon is strong. Talk to him. If anyone can bring him back, it’s you. And now—” gently placing a hand on my stomach, she smiles “—he has even more reason to wake up. He has to. He has to look after my…grandbaby.” Her pause is my undoing, and I don’t stand a chance.

Tears fill my eyes, as do hers, but in this ugliness, we’ve finally found something to smile about. Miracles can happen it seems.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were in here.”

Both my mom and I wipe away our tears as I hurriedly hide the pregnancy test in my bag. “It’s okay, Sam,” I say over my shoulder as he’s halfway out the door. Earlier, I was running on pure emotion, and although I stand by my convictions, fighting with him is not the solution.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Mom kisses my forehead, leaving me alone with Sam.

Facing forward, unable to tear my gaze from the stained-glass window, I wait for him to come over. He does a moment later. “I’m sorry,” he says heavily, sitting beside me. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Neither do I.”

He runs his hands through his snarled hair, blowing out an exasperated breath. “I just want to do what’s right. Sax is the strong one. He always knew what to do. Tell me what to do.”

He’s giving me a get out of jail for free card, but I can’t decide this for him. “Do what’s right.” It’s the only piece of advice I can give him.

This can be applied to our entire relationship, but we’re way past that. But this, now, this is his second chance to seek salvation. “I don’t know what that is anymore. This is all my fault.”

We’re both heavy with the burden of guilt. “This is as much my fault as it is yours. As it was the other driver. Or the road he was riding on. No one chooses their fate. It just…happens. Whatever you choose, you’ll have to live with it for the rest of your life. I know you’ll make the right choice.”

Sam sighs, peering upward as he steeples his fingertips over his lips. He’s torn, and no one can blame him for that. I’ll give him some quiet time because it helped me.

Standing, I’m struck with an idea. He’s faced with a monumental decision, and before he decides, he needs all the pieces. Digging into my pocket, I retrieve Saxon’s letter. I’ve not been able to part with it, just as his ring, his promise sits snugly on the chain around my neck. “Here. Read this and then decide.” Sam peers down at it, running his thumb over the pages. “Read it and then tell me you wouldn’t fight for him with your last dying breath.”