Page 117 of Cross Check Hearts

The tightness in my chest eases slightly as I look at the beeping monitor. She’s stable. Whatever is happening, at least she’s stable.

I can’t help wondering if this is somehow connected to our breakup. Was she already dealing with something? Is that why she pushed me away?

My chest lurches with anxiety at the thought. Images of the last time I saw Hannah flash through my mind and guilt pools in my stomach, because I want more than anything to know what’s going on with her. But at this point, I don’t even know if I’m ever going to be able to speak to her again.

What if she doesn’t wake up?

I squeeze her hand tightly with mine, silently urging her to pull through this, whatever it is. Now I have some idea of how terrible it must have been for her to be at my side when I took a hit in that game a while back, not knowing if or when I’d wake up. But she stayed with me the entire time, and she didn’t let anyone come between us—not even her dad.

The ambulance tears through the streets, sirens wailing as traffic parts before us. Inside the cabin, the medic works efficiently, checking Hannah’s vitals and adjusting an IV drip. I keep her hand firmly in mine while staying out of his way.

“BP is stabilizing. Heart rate normal,” the medic reports to his partner. He glances at me with a hint of sympathy. “She’s holding steady.”

I nod, grateful for any good news. Leaning close to Hannah, I whisper words I’m not sure she can hear. “I’m right here, Hannah. You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

Her eyelids flutter slightly at the sound of my voice, and I swear her fingers tighten around mine for just a moment.

“That’s a good sign,” the medic says, noticing the movement. “She’s responding to stimuli.”

The ambulance screeches to a halt at the emergency entrance. Everything becomes a blur of motion—doors flying open, medical staff rushing forward, equipment being readied. The medic efficiently transfers Hannah’s gurney to the waiting team.

Hannah jerks awake as they wheel her down from the ambulance, her eyes wide and disoriented as she takes in her surroundings. Her gaze finds mine, panicked and questioning.

“You’re at the hospital,” I tell her, keeping pace alongside the gurney. “I’m staying with you.”

A nurse at the entrance steps forward. “Sir, I’m sorry, but you’ll need to check in at the desk. Family only beyond this point.”

Hannah’s hand reaches for mine, fear flashing across her face. “Please,” she says, her voice barely audible but determined. “He needs to stay with me.”

I meet the nurse’s eyes. “I’m not leaving her.”

The nurse hesitates. “Are you her emergency contact?” she asks briskly.

“Yes,” I say immediately. It may not be the exact truth, but I’m not letting her turn me away.

“Follow me, then. But stay clear of the medical team when they’re working.”

“I will.”

They wheel Hannah through the double doors into a treatment room, transferring her to a hospital bed with practiced efficiency. I stay pressed against the wall, watching as they connect her to monitors and start an IV. When the initial flurry of activity subsides and several staff members exit, I move to her bedside and take her hand.

“Thank god you’re awake,” I say, relief making my voice unsteady. “I was so worried.”

“Declan,” she whispers, her eyes clearing slightly. “It’s not your fault.”

A doctor enters before I can respond, clipboard in hand. He introduces himself as Dr. Landers and begins examining Hannah, asking her questions about her symptoms while checking her responses. I step back but stay close, watching every movement, cataloging every reaction.

“You recently had an MRI?” the doctor asks, reviewing her chart.

Hannah nods, still avoiding my eyes, and my heart rate spikes.When did this happen? And why didn’t she tell me?

“Is everything alright?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.

The doctor gives me a neutral look. “We’re still running tests. I’ll have more answers soon.” He turns back to Hannah. “The medication should help with the headache. We’ll monitor you for the next few hours.”

Dr. Landers leaves to check on his next patient, and when we’re alone, Hannah’s watery eyes drift up to mine. The conflict and emotion swirling in them breaks my heart, even though I don’t have a clue what it’s about. I reach for her hand again, massaging her knuckles with my thumb.

“Hannah… what’s happening? Whatever it is, please, just tell me. Not knowing what’s going on is eating me alive.”

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