Page 79 of My Heart Before You

The metallic clang of her locker door resounded in Emilie’s mouth, like chewing on a piece of aluminum. This oddly acute perception had followed her all week. After Colin had told her he loved her, the reality in front of her eyes didn’t make sense. Light played off objects differently, scents that she usually ignored presented themselves for her evaluation, and textures against her fingertips intensified.

Existence was varied and unusual to her, but Colin seemed relaxed and unburdened after he said three little words that tilted her axis. Since then, they worked together once and texted a few times. It was almost as if the words she’d undoubtedly heard hadn't been said as he patiently waited for her to draw her own conclusion.

Everything was the same, but everything was completely different.

Her brain went into overdrive trying to process this new information, making her tired. She’d lost sleep lying in bed staring at the ceiling, her hands pressed firmly over her sternum. Logically, loving another person shouldn’t diminish the life and love she had with Braden, but a weight still sat at the base of her spine.

It was one thing to be intimate with another man again, but it was entirely different to be in love with another man.

That, of course, was the hitch in the first place.

He wasn’t just another man.

He wasColin.

After pushing through the unit doors, she moved towards the charge desk to pick up her assignment. The buzzed back of Max’s head was hovering nearby and rotated when the night charge pointed her direction. Relief flowed over his face as he strode towards her and tucked them into a charting alcove.

“There you are.”

Pressure built between her brows, but she forced her mind to be sensible. “Do you need help with a patient?”

He ran his hand over his auburn beard. “No. It’s Colin. He was running this morning and . . . he’s downstairs in the emerg . . .”

She didn’t need to hear the rest of that word. Adrenaline surged through her veins as her heart jumped to the ready in her chest. The muscles of her calves and quads fired immediately as she pushed her weight against the floor and sprinted through the double doors.

“Emilie, wait . . .” Max’s voice sounded as if it was underwater.

Her hands hit the steel handle of the stairwell hard before she flew down the five flights of stairs to the ground floor. Rounding the corner to the back entrance of the Emergency Room, she rushed through the open double doors.

The familiar pinging of medical equipment, the static of the EMS radio, and staff working and talking through open trauma bay doors made her freeze for a nanosecond pause. Bile rose in her throat, and she resisted the overwhelming urge to double over and throw up.

Not again. Please, not again.

Forcing her muscles to move, she dodged into the opening of three rooms before she found him.

Colin’s eyes were closed as he lay on the emergency room gurney. Blood soaked the right side of his scalp and the pillow beneath his head. Where his brow met his hairline there was a line of tidy stitches about an inch long. His left pinky and ring finger were wrapped in gauze lying on top of the hospital’s green checkered gown.

Her vision narrowed to the side of his neck as she watched his chest rise and then fall. An inhale rasped in her throat as she felt the shaking start in her fingertips and move up her arms.

As she silently crossed the room, the barely functioning medically trained part of her brain read the telemetry, the blood pressure machine, and the pulse oximeter. The pounding in her ears was louder than the beeping of the IV pole running fluids into this arm. Every machine showed that his vitals were strong, but disbelief smacked strongly in her chest.

Stopping beside him, she reached a trembling hand to touch his brow below the line of blue sutures.

Colin’s eyes flew open. “Emilie.”

The timber of his voice should have bought her relief, but it did the opposite. A strangled sound came out of her mouth as her fingers united the ties at his neck, yanked at the snapps at his shoulder, and ripped his gown down to survey the damage herself. Her vibrating fingers ran the length of his chest. The right side was bruised badly, but it was whole.

He was not completely broken.

The legs that had so steadily brought her here gave out beneath her, and she felt Colin’s arm wrap around her. He pulled her onto the gurney, her cheek falling to the left side of his chest as uncontrollable tears streamed from her eyes onto his warm skin.

Max stomped to the entry of the door, breathing heavily.

“Damn, she’s fast,” he said at the same time Colin shouted, “Jesus, Max! Didn’t you tell her I was okay?”

“I tried to,” he heaved. “She was like . . .” Another breath. “. . . a rocket.”

Colin swore under his breath, and with a slight groan of discomfort, he pulled the pulse ox off his right hand to hold her tighter.

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