Maria's fingers trembled as she held Jordan's limp hand. The steady beep of hospital machines filled the sterile room. She hadn't left his side in three days.
"You i***t," she whispered, her thumb tracing circles on his bruised knuckles. "You just had to play the hero."
Jordan lay still, his face swollen and discolored. Tubes ran into his arms. A breathing mask covered his nose and mouth. The doctors had been clear—his chances weren't good. Broken ribs. Internal bleeding. Severe dehydration. His body had finally given out the moment they'd reached safety.
Maria closed her eyes, the memory washing over her again. That second kiss. The way his arms had wrapped around her, pulling her close like she was his anchor in a storm. Then his eyes rolling back, his body crumpling to the ground.
"
