Page 67 of Saved from Obsession

I’m torn open, raw, and bleeding.

All the air seems like it’s been sucked out of the room. Each breath is a struggle, my lungs too tight to work properly. My heart isn’t here—it’s still with Georgia—and I’m praying it’s strong enough to keep her going.

I can’t stop seeing the same horrific scene over and over. Georgia’s face as she fell. The sound of her head hitting the nightstand. The woman I love on the ground, unconscious and bleeding. And it’s my fault.

Of all the things I’ve failed at, this is by far the worst.

The floor is a smear of white and gray, the tile blurring as I stare down at my feet. I’ve been in the same position since we arrived, head in my hands, guilt dragging down at me. The guilt only goes away when a more powerful emotion—suffocating fear—steps in to replace it.

Someone sits down next to me, another in a line of many. While we’ve been waiting for news about Georgia, my teammates have been taking turns checking on me. I can’t bring myself to respond with more than mumbledthanksandokays.All my effort is going into holding it together.

“Don’t assume the worst.” It’s Cole again—they must have worked their way down the line and came back to the start. “Just because she wasn’t awake when she got to the hospital doesn’t mean it’s bad news.”

“It’s notgoodnews,“ I grit out, managing an actual response. “Good news would have been her waking up at the house. Or in the ambulance.”

I rode to the hospital in the ambulance with Georgia—there was no way I was letting her out of my sight again. At first, the paramedics didn’t want to let me go with her, but Cole pulled me aside and said quietly, “Just say you’re engaged.” I didn’t feel a flicker of guilt about lying—while she might not be yet, hopefully someday…

The entire ride, I kept praying that she’d open her eyes as I held her hand, reassuring her that she was safe, but nothing. Not even a blink, or a squeeze of my fingers. And each mile, each minute, my panic and fear grew thicker.

“We haven’t been here that long,” Cole says, trying to reassure me. “They’re probably still examining her.”

We’ve been in the waiting room for well over an hour, though it seems like much longer. Long enough for Cole to deal with the police, enough for everyone to get here. Long enough for Nora and Finn to call and say they were on their way, even bringing their client with them.

Would they do that if it wasn’t serious? The small, terrified voice in my brain pipes up.Do they know something I don’t?Do they think Georgia won’t make it?

“Do you remember Miles?” The question comes out without thinking. “From the SERE course?” Survival, evasion, resistance, and escape training was one of our requirements to become a Green Beret, and one of the most intense ones.

“Yeah.” Cole sighs, going silent for a moment. His voice drops as he says, “I remember him.”

I lift my head to meet Cole’s eyes. “When he hit his head during that training exercise, we didn’t think it was a big deal. He was dizzy for a few minutes, but laughed it off and kept going. And then—”

“It’s not the same thing, Leo.” He shakes his head, his forehead wrinkling. “Miles was hit in the temple, not in the back of the head. That’s a much more vulnerable spot. And what happened to Miles was a fluke. Thousands of other people could be hit like that and they wouldn’t have thrown a blood clot.”

“But ithappened,“ I insist, the words ripping out of me. “How do I know it won’t happen to Georgia?”

“Leo…”

A fresh surge of fear crashes into me, the punishing wave stealing my breath. I can’t sit here any longer. My skin is throbbing, my heart racing, I need to movesomewhereto keep myself from breaking. As I stride over to the vending machine and brace my hands on its sides, I can feel my teammates’ eyes on me. I know they’re worried, and they all have my back, but I can’t bring myself to think about what I’dreallyneed them for.

If Georgia is okay, I will be, too. But if she’s not—if she’s in a coma, terribly injured, orworse—I’ll be broken.

“Mr. Wilder?” A man’s voice silences any sound in the room and I spin around to see where it came from. I spot the man—the doctor, dressed in a crisp white coat and dark gray pants, and my heart beats so fast I feel light-headed.

For a second, I can’t speak. All I can do is stare at him, searching his expression for some clue about the news he’s going to share. Does he look regretful? Sympathetic? Or is he relieved? Is his neutral expression hinting at good news, or something that will crush me?

Finally, I croak out, “Yes. That’s me.”

The few seconds before he speaks again are the longest of my life. Everything flashes before me—a future with Georgia, a wedding, a house, a family—or an expanse of devastating emptiness. One word echoes in my head.Please.

Then he smiles, and the ice around my heart thaws. “Your fiancée is going to be okay.”

Thank God. My legs sag, and Rylan and Zane rush over to support me. Tears press against my eyes, but I push them back. There’ll be a time when I let them free, but not now. Now I need to focus on Georgia.

“Georgia has a severe concussion,” the doctor says, “which is why she was unconscious for so long. But she woke up while I was examining her, she was lucid, all her vitals look good, and there’s no sign of swelling or bleeding.”

I want to ask him questions, thank him, find out when I can see Georgia, but I’m afraid if I open my mouth right now I’ll start bawling. So I’m still clenching my jaw and swallowing hard when Cole jumps in. “Is there any sign of lasting damage? Are her reflexes okay?”

“Everything looks good.” The doctor’s gaze shifts from Cole to me. “She’s very lucky. I expect to see her make a full recovery.”

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