Page 39 of Blazing Hearts

But as the hours stretched on, that turmoil became harder to ignore. Every time Kara’s vitals wavered, Mallory’s heart clenched. Every time the monitors beeped erratically, a flicker of doubt pierced her focus.

And yet, she pressed on, pouring every ounce of her skill, her will, and her love into the work.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last suture was placed. Mallory stepped back, her hands trembling with exhaustion. Kara’s leg was stabilized, the bleeding controlled. Her vitals, though still fragile, were holding steady.

“She’s stable,” Mallory said, her voice thick with emotion.

A collective sigh of relief swept through the room.

Mallory turned to the anesthesiologist. “Keep her monitored closely. Notify me immediately if anything changes.”

The team nodded, their respect for her evident in their expressions.

Mallory removed her gloves and mask, leaning against the counter as the weight of the moment settled over her. Her body ached, her mind spun, but one thought rose above the rest: Kara was alive.

She allowed herself a single, trembling breath before leaving the OR. There was still a long road ahead, but for now, she had done everything she could.

As she stepped into the hallway, the memories returned—the laughter, the strength, the quiet moments of connection. Kara wasn’t just another patient. She was the person Mallory couldn’t imagine losing.

And tonight, Mallory had fought with everything she had to make sure she wouldn’t.

As Mallory stepped out of the operating room, her legs felt like they might buckle beneath her. The sterile, humming quiet of the hospital hallway was a far cry from the chaos of the OR, where her mind had been razor-focused, keeping her emotions locked away in the deepest corners of her heart. But now, in the stark silence of the corridor, with the weight of the world still pressing on her shoulders, she let herself breathe.

Her heart was still pounding in her chest, a reminder of the intensity of the surgery, the constant threat of failure that had hovered over every movement she’d made. But it wasn’t just the operation that was weighing on her. As the adrenaline of the moment faded, the torrent of emotions she had fought so hard to suppress flooded back in full force.

Kara. The woman she loved. The woman who had been torn apart by the explosion, her body broken and battered, her life hanging by a thread in that sterile room. Mallory leaned against the cold wall, her palms flat against the surface, as if she could physically hold herself together.

Her breath caught in her throat as memories of the moments she’d spent with Kara—laughing, talking, even the silences—flashed through her mind. Kara’s smile, so effortless and warm, seemed like a distant dream now, eclipsed by the image of her in that hospital bed, battered and unconscious.

The fear that had been creeping around the edges of her thoughts—the fear that she might not get another chance to tell Kara how she truly felt—rushed in like a flood. Mallory had spent so much of her life running from emotions, locking them behind the walls of her career, hiding behind the sterile, technical world she’d mastered. But with Kara, it had all felt different. She had allowed herself to believe in something more. Something that wasn’t about logic or skill or control. It was about trust, and vulnerability, and connection.

But now? Now she couldn’t shake the terror that she might never get the chance to say the words that had been lodged in her chest for so long.

I love you. The thought echoed through her mind, but it felt so foreign, so terrifying, that it almost choked her. She had only said that out loud to one other person, and while she meant it at the time, her feelings in the past paled to how much she felt for Kara. And now, with the possibility of losing her hanging in the balance, the weight of that unsaid confession threatened to crush her.

Mallory swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. The OR had demanded everything from her—every ounce of focus, every scrap of energy—but now, alone in the hallway, she was faced with the reality of the situation. She could feel the tremor in her hands as they gripped the edge of the counter, the tightness in her chest that seemed to constrict her every breath.

What if it was too late? What if Kara didn’t make it through the night?

The thought was unbearable, and Mallory immediately pushed it away, forcing herself to think rationally. Kara was strong. She was a fighter. Mallory had seen it in her every day since they met—her quiet determination, her resilience. She had no doubt that Kara would pull through this, no matter how bad the odds seemed.

And yet… what if? Thewhat ifsseemed endless, swirling around in her mind like a storm. What if her own fear had kept her from being truly honest with Kara? What if her hesitation, her refusal to confront her own feelings, had caused more distance between them than she had realized?

She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning her forehead against the cool metal of the door frame. Her mind reeled. She had pushed Kara away in so many ways, even if she hadn’t meant to. She had held back when it came to their connection, wrapped herself in layers of protection because she feared what it might mean to give her heart away. And now, Kara was lying in a hospital bed, fighting for her life, and Mallory couldn’t help but wonder if she had waited too long.

Would Kara know that Mallory had cared for her from the very first moment they’d met, even if Mallory hadn’t said it? Would Kara understand that the distance Mallory had kept between them had never been about her, but about Mallory’s own inability to trust that kind of love?

A nurse passed by, her footsteps quick and purposeful, and Mallory forced herself to take a steadying breath. She had to move forward. She had to stay strong—for Kara, for herself, for the team that had relied on her to hold it together. But as she pushed off the wall, her body felt like lead. Her legs were unsteady, as though the gravity of the situation had finally caught up to her.

She wandered down the hallway, her footsteps echoing too loudly in the silence, trying to pull herself together, to remember who she was and what she had done. She was a surgeon, damn it. She had saved lives before, and she could save Kara too. But her own voice of reassurance sounded hollow, the weight of the truth pressing down on her with every step.

What if this was the moment that defined everything between them? What if she had never said the words, had never truly let herself feel the depth of what was growing between them? She had taken it for granted, assuming that there would always be more time. But time wasn’t a guarantee.

The idea that Kara might never wake up, that she might never be able to apologize for her hesitation, terrified Mallory more than she could have ever imagined. Every part of her ached with the fear of losing Kara, not just because she couldn’t bear the pain of her absence, but because she knew that they had something real—something rare—and she had been too afraid to fully embrace it.

Mallory reached the nurses’ station and looked around, her gaze unfocused, until she saw Scotti, one of Kara’s teammates. The firefighter looked up at her, her expression tight with concern.

“Doctor Storm,” Scotti said softly, her voice betraying none of the anxiety that was clearly eating at her. “How’s she doing?”

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