~~PEYTON~~
THE NEXT MORNING, the same kind-faced nurse returns.
But no smiles this time.
“Mrs. Thorne, the doctor’s cleared you for discharge. Just need to remove your IV, and you’re good to go.”
I can’t help but frown.
The announcement feels less like good news and more like a fresh wave of anxiety.
I’d barely closed my eyes, and the thought of stepping back into the maelstrom of my life made my stomach clench all over again.
No more sterile white walls, no more quiet solitude, just the cold, hard reality of everything waiting for me outside.
I just stare at the nurse, suddenly wishing I could plead for a few more days—a reprieve from the inevitable.
“Are you sure?” I mumble.
She simply nods as she expertly pulls the needle and tapes a small dressing over the spot.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, stretching, yawning, and taking a deep breath, but the nurse is still standing close by, her eyes on me.
It looks like she wasn’t done yet.
Does she have something else to say?
I hope it’s not bad news I can’t—”Mrs.
Thorne, there’s something else,” she says suddenly.
“Your husband was rushed in yesterday while you were asleep. And…”
Color drains out of my face.
“W-what?”
”He was in an accident, still unconscious, and is currently in PACU Bay 3.”
******
I’m struggling to breathe.
I don’t know why, but I’m struggling.
Running through the hallway, I’m scanning every room, every open door, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The sterile scent of antiseptic usually makes me calm, but now it feels like it’s suffocating me.
Nurses and doctors become blurry figures, their murmurs lost in the frantic drumming in my ears.
PACU Bay 3.
PACU Bay 3.
I chant the location in my head, fueling my frantic dash.
My legs are weak, still shaking from the shock, but I push harder, the need to see him overriding everything else.
I hate him.
Yes.
But he can’t die.
Not yet.
Not ever—until he grows gray hair and wrinkles on his face while he hunches his back with a walking stick.
God, I’m spiraling.
My feet pound on the floor as I make a beeline for a rounded corner.
The signs on the wall, the door—everything is blurry.
Damn it.
*PACU Bay 3*
Finally, the sign!
But I stop dead in my tracks.
The door is closed.
The place is so quiet, so unnervingly still, you could actually hear a pin drop.
Until…
“Pey?”
The whisper, barely audible, ripped through the silence like a jagged tear.
I whip my head to the side, my gaze darting around the empty corridor until I see him.
“Axel?” I choke out the name, a question, and a plea all at once.
But he wasn’t alone.
Right beside him is Raphael—just Raphael, seated on the bench, leaning back against the wall, shirt half-buttoned, like a free peek at my chest.
He’s got that effortlessly hot vibe, like he just rolled out of bed but somehow still looks like a million bucks.
It’s like he’s here for a modeling shoot instead of someone whose brother just got out of the ER and is probably fighting for his life.
When he hears my voice, he raises his head, then frowns, narrowing his eyes at me.
It was a question of “Why are you here?”—like I shouldn’t be here or something.
God, why is he so hard to read?
And then there’s Axel, who flashes me a smile.
It’s brief but soft enough to make me breathe out in relief and calm down, even for a bit.
He stands and walks over.
But before he can say a word, Rap shoots at me.
“Why are you just coming in?”
I stare, caught off guard by the abruptness of his tone, his earlier model-like composure completely gone as a raw edge bleeds into his voice.
“You should have gotten the news yesterday afternoon,” Rap says, his voice flat and accusing.
“He was in the ER fighting for his life, and you weren’t here. Where were you?”
Is he….?
“I was in my sick bed and was discharged today, and instead of going home, I was informed that my husband was in an accident.
Is that enough explanation for you, officer?”
”Whoa, whoa, calm down, people.” Axel steps between Rap and me, his hands up in a ‘chill out’ kind of way.
“Raphael, what did I tell you about improving your people skills? You sounded like a jerk just now.”
Raphael bites his lip, staring at the floor like it’s the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.
He mutters “sorry,” like he’s trying to get a stubborn bit of meat off between his teeth.
Axel shakes his head and looks right at me, his eyes softening a bit.
“You okay?”
I look away, anger suddenly bubbling in me.
just acute gastritis.”
”Oh my God, that sounds serious.” Axel takes a step closer, his brow furrowed.
I try not to roll my eyes.
“It’s not that serious.”
”Still, you should have replied to my text; I was worried,” he insists, his voice gentle.
And it’s starting to scare me—this concern, this worry, this softness.
Are all these some perks for being his girlfriend?
I bite back a sharp retort, trying to rein in the thought from going wide.
“I literally just told you I was sick, Axel. I couldn’t even keep water down, let alone answer texts. And besides, I fell asleep.”
My gaze flickers to Raphael, who is still avoiding eye contact, and then back to Axel.
“So, where’s your mom? Did she come with you guys?”
Axel sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“No, we haven’t told her yet. We figured it was better to wait until Odin’s out of danger. You know my mom—she’d hit the floor and we’d have to rush her to the same hospital for high blood pressure.”
I grimace.
He wasn’t wrong.
My mother-in-law, bless her dramatic heart, would absolutely self-combust at the news.
“Right,” I mumble, my mind drifting back to Odin.
“So, he’s… really bad then? Like super serious? In a coma or something?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper, finally letting the fear surface.
“What even happened? How did this happen?”
Raphael finally looks up, his face still grim.
“His car got hit by a truck in the parking lot. The truck driver just… disappeared. The cops are still trying to track him down.”
My stomach drops.
“A hit-and-run? In a hospital parking lot?” It just sounds so…
bizarre.
“No, in a supermarket parking lot.” Raphael shakes his head, running a hand over his jaw.
“Yeah, it doesn’t make any sense. Why would someone just hit an idle car, parked in a good spot—not even wrong parking—and then just disappear like that? And the truck—there’s nothing wrong with the brakes, no faults at all. It looks too… planned.”
Axel, who’s been quiet, staring off into space, suddenly snaps his head up.
“I’ve been thinking about it, and it’s starting to make sense.”
Rap frowns, confused.
“Meaning?”
My own eyebrows knit together.
But Axel just gives Rap a look—a subtle signal that says, “We’ll talk later.”
”We should probably head in soon; they might let us see him for a bit.” The words are meant to be comforting, I guess, but all they do is make my stomach flip even more.
My gaze drifts back to that closed door of PACU Bay 3.
Glad I don’t have to pay the bills.
Axel will handle it, I think.
I’m not sure the idiot has health insurance.
Then, I hear it.
The sharp sound of heel clicks on the floor, getting closer, faster.
Someone is rushing in.
My head whips around just as a figure rounds the corner.
Kira.