Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

I know that sound. Hell, anyone who’s grown up in the TV age has to know that sound. It’s a heart monitor. Which means I’m in a hospital. Which means I’m alive.

The joy is instant, the confusion hot on its heels. What happened? I remember . . . something. Heat. Fear.

I hear a kind voice, calm and reassuring next to me, “Hey, you’re okay. Take a gentle breath. Easy now.”

I crack open my eyes to see a young woman, barely older than me, wearing blue scrubs. I do as she says, taking in a slow, deep breath and wincing at the pain as the cool air moves through my body.

“Good job. You’re in the hospital but you’re doing fine. Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

I take a moment, forcing my spinning mind to focus on a task and evaluate my body. “Well . . . mostly, it’s my head. It’s throbbing. And my leg hurts.”

The nurse nods. “Well, you just relax. Let me grab the doc and we’ll see if we can get you some pain meds.”

She pokes her head out of the sliding doorway that looks sort of like an airlock. A second later, she reappears with a grey-haired man wearing a matching set of scrubs.

“Welcome back, Madison. I’m Dr. McDermott. The nurse says your head and leg are bothering you?”

I try to nod, but the movement is more difficult than it should be. My neck feels stiff, immobile.

Dr. McDermott stops me. “Oh, let’s try not to move your neck for a couple more days. Everything’s fine, swelling is going down now, but the muscles are going to be sore, and the internal structures still need a bit of healing time.”

“More days?” I ask, catching the first part of his speech before losing track of what he’s talking about.

“Oh, yes, you’ve been with us for two days now. Healing well,” he reassures me.

“Two days?” I ask, surprised. “I’ve been here two days?”

“Three, actually. They had you in the ICU for the first twenty-four hours,” the nurse says.

“What . . . what happened?” I murmur, not sure if I’m asking them or myself. I try to rack my brain, but it’s all fuzzy and makes the throbbing worse.

Dr. McDermott answers me, thankfully, stopping my pain-inducing train of thought. “You were in an accident. You sustained a pretty nasty burn to your left leg,” the doctor says, and I look down to see my entire left thigh wrapped in white gauze. “You’re young, so it’s too early to tell, but you could end up with a scar. More worrisome, though, was your head injury. You took a hard double-hit to the head. You’ll likely have a headache for several more days, but you should be fine.”

His words give focus to the confused images in my mind as I try to think. I remember driving, then the lights, and a bump. “Rich,” I murmur, shivering. “He made me crash, attacked me. I fought back but he must have really fucked me up.”

“You’re lucky the damage isn’t worse. It seems you had a guardian angel that night. He’s been watching over you ever since too.”

“Angel?” I ask, confused. “I don’t . . . I don’t even remember an accident. Just flashes.”

“That’s probably a good thing for now, but it’ll likely come back to you.”

I shiver, and the doctor pats my shoulder. “That’s nothing to worry about right now. You need to relax and focus on getting better. By the way, someone’s waiting for you outside. Would you like a visitor?”

“Aunt May?” I ask, and the doctor shakes his head as he goes for the door.

“Three nice ladies—May, Tiffany, and Stella—have been here around the clock, but they just stepped out,” the doctor says. He opens the door and gestures to someone, then leaves. My heart skips a beat when Scott steps in.

“Madison, I—” Scott whispers, stepping forward before stopping. “They wouldn’t let me see you except through a window.” His voice cracks almost as much as mine has been, but his seems to be choked with emotion.

“What happened?” I ask.

Scott swallows. “He was chasing you, bumping you with his car, and I watched you flip. Your car skidded across the parking lot, and I died inside thinking there was no way you’d be okay after that. I ran for you, but Rich got there first, cutting you out of the burning car. As fucked up as it is, I’m glad he did or the burns would’ve been worse.” His eyes track down to my leg, and I feel the anger in his gaze, even through the gauze.

“But then he started choking you, and I tackled him. We fought . . .” Scott tells me the story of how he punched a knife-wielding Rich, eventually knocking him out.

I can see the ghost of a shiner on his cheek. Rich must’ve gotten in a decent punch or two, but it sounds like Scott was my guardian angel like the doctor said. I don’t know what would’ve happened if he hadn’t been there. I don’t remember all of what he’s telling me, but I remember fighting like hell as long as I could. I also remember giving up and letting the darkness take me to avoid whatever Rich had planned. I’m glad Scott didn’t give up on me.

“Why were you there?” Though I intend for my words to sound grateful, they sound accusatory.

Scott winces. “Be patient, please. I’m still so jumbled on all this, and it seems so long ago now. You left, and I was devastated, so angry with myself that I’d fucked up, and I didn’t know what to do. Give you time? Chase after you? While I tried to figure it out, I went to work and got word . . . the board went with my proposal.”

“Congratulations.” I say, meaning it sincerely because I know it was his dream.

Scott nods automatically. “Thanks. But . . . I didn’t care. It felt meaningless. Empty. What I wanted was you. So I left and went to Stella’s, but traffic was . . . well, whatever. When I finally found you, it was just as Rich flipped your car.” He stares off into space for a moment, and it’s like I can see the scene replaying across his mind as he tenses and grimaces at the images only he can see.

“When we were fighting, Rich was such an asshole, still mouthing about how you needed him. I reminded him how you were strong, didn’t need him or anyone else, and are so fucking beautiful in your independence. I meant it. Every word.”

I interrupt him, already seeing the truth on his face as he speaks but fishing for him to spell it out. “Really?”

He grabs my hand, dropping to his knees beside the bed. “Fuck, Madison. I never meant to make you feel like I thought you were weak or like I was trying to take control of your life. I never should’ve done what I did. Flat out, I had no right. I’m sorry. So fucking sorry. I was just so scared, and I overreacted and wanted to protect you, but . . . I never meant to crush you. I want you to shine like the badass you are.”

His words are jumbled, running over one another as he tries to express himself, but I hear the underlying honesty in them. The truth is that he didn’t mean to hurt me and does think I’m strong and capable, even appreciates that about me. Under his gaze, I feel that way too, even if I am down for the moment.

I look into his eyes and realize another difference between Rich and Scott. Scott did what he did not to keep me under his thumb, but to free me in his own way.

He never pressured me to stay with him or to move in. He let me take time even when he was full-throttle committed to me. It was seriously presumptuous and fucked up, but we both come with some damage and baggage, and I can see this situation played right into both of our fears and insecurities. And no matter what, I know how I feel.

“I forgive you,” I reply, squeezing his hand.

What else is there to say? I mean, the man saved my life, and the other shit that happened wasn’t his fault.

Scott lets out a sigh of disbelief. “Thank you. Fuck, I know that forgiving me is one thing but being with me is another. But I love you, Madison. So fucking much.”

“I love you too,” I whisper.

Scott stands up to lean over the bed, planting a tender, sweet kiss to my lips. As we part, I lick my lips, tasting the stale coffee on his breath, and I know that he’s been here, by my side, not in front of or behind me, the whole time. I’m already strong, whole all by myself, even with the dings and cracks in my spirit. But his presence makes me feel like a better version of me, like his love smooths over those fissures, both appreciating them and filling them with sparkly, glittery bits of love.

Damn, maybe those pain meds the nurse swooshes into my IV are kicking in.

In my mind, I can hear Dolly’s sweet voice . . . This ol’ heart ain’t gonna break your heart again.