Chapter 14

The blood wouldn’t come off.

I’d washed my hands three times. Scalding water. Industrial soap. Scrubbed until the skin on my knuckles went raw and red.

But it was still there.

Under my nails.

In the folds of my wrist.

On my scrubs—thick in some places, smeared in others. James’s blood. Warm, metallic, and real.

He’d be okay. That’s what the nurse had said—something about the bullet going clean through the muscle, not hitting bone or artery. He was stable. Talking. Even cracking dry jokes in the trauma bay like nothing had happened.

But I wasn’t okay.

Not even close.

I stood in the corner of the nurses’ station, trembling, arms folded tight across my chest. My breath kept catching in my throat like it didn’t know whether to sob or choke. There were voices around me—colleagues murmuring, someone offering a chair, a cup of water, I think—but I couldn’t really hear any of it.

I had called the Langton estate twenty minutes ago. Told the security team there was an incident. That there was an incident and that someone got shot.

Didn’t think he’ll really care much. At least I was alive.

But I was spiraling.

I needed my pills.

And this—this-this adrenaline, this smell, this whole hospital air drenched in trauma—

It was a trigger I hadn’t built armor against.

I could feel the itch behind my teeth. The urge to find something sharp, something numbing.

Something that would cut the panic into manageable pieces.

Then I heard the energy shift. The collective inhale of people around me.

And I felt him before I saw him.

Isaac Langton—billionaire, headline-maker, untouchable—walked through the double doors of the ER like he owned the oxygen in the room.

Conversations stopped. Eyes widened. One nurse physically dropped her clipboard.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t ask permission.

He walked straight through the cluster of hospital staff surrounding me like they weren’t even there.

And then—

He pulled me into his arms.

Hard. Fierce. Like he’d been holding his breath the whole way here.

I froze.

The sound in the room evaporated. The air itself felt like it held still, afraid to interrupt.

A collective shock pulsed through the ER. One nurse audibly gasped. Another muttered, “Is that… is that him?”

“The billionaire?” someone whispered.

“Why is he holding her like that?”

But none of it reached me. Not really.

Because he was warm and solid and real, and my body just… buckled. I let myself fall against him, my fists still balled between us.

“You’re okay,” he breathed into my hair. “You’re okay.”

My throat tightened, emotion and disbelief clawing up into my chest.

I hadn’t expected him to come.

And yet here he was.

Wrapped around me like I was the thing he was terrified to lose.

I felt the tremor in my hands even as I clung tighter.

The panic hadn’t faded—but the loneliness had.

He pulled back enough to look at me, still holding my arms like I might vanish.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” I whispered, throat raw. “So I called your house.”

His jaw clenched. “You could’ve called me a hundred times,” he said, stepping even closer. “I would’ve shown up on the first.”

I stared up at him.

His expression wasn’t distant.

It wasn’t polite.

It was wrecked. Tight with worry. The kind that carved itself into bone.

Why?

Why does he care this much?

I’d seen him cold. Controlled.

But this? This version of him?

I didn’t know what to do with it.

“I thought you wouldn’t care,” I said, barely audible.

His hand came up—slow, careful—and brushed a bloodstained strand of hair from my cheek.

“I care too much,” he said. “That’s the fucking problem.”

And for a second, my whole world tilted.

Because no one had ever said that to me.

Not like this.

Isaac’s hand tightened gently on my arm.

“Let’s go home.”

The words landed hard in my chest.

Home?

I didn’t move right away.

My body felt too light. Too heavy. Too… confused.

But he didn’t wait for my answer.

He turned, his arm still around me, guiding me through the ER like it belonged to him.

People stared.

Phones lifted.

I caught flashes—screens lighting up, shutter clicks in rapid succession.

A billionaire holding a nurse in bloodstained scrubs?

They couldn’t eat it up fast enough.

My breath hitched, and I instinctively lowered my head, but Isaac didn’t break stride.

He held my hand.

In front of everyone.

Firm. Unapologetic.

Like daring the world to ask why.

I was still trembling when we reached the car outside. Black. Sleek. Unmistakably his.

The driver moved toward the door, but Isaac’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Get out. I’ll drive.”

The man blinked. “Sir?”

“You heard me.”

The driver backed off without another word, eyes wide.

Isaac opened the door for me himself, his palm still warm against the small of my back as I climbed in.

Inside smelled like him. Clean. Earthy. Expensive.

I could barely unclench my jaw.

He reached into the center console, pulled out a cold bottle of water, cracked the seal, and handed it to me.

I stared at it for a second before taking it, my hands barely steady enough to hold it right.

“You’re safe now,” he said, closing the driver’s side door and starting the car with one sharp motion.

I didn’t move right away.

My body felt too light. Too heavy. Too… confused.

But he didn’t wait for my answer.

He turned, his arm still around me, guiding me through the ER like it belonged to him.

People stared.

Phones lifted.

I caught flashes—screens lighting up, shutter clicks in rapid succession.

A billionaire holding a nurse in bloodstained scrubs?

They couldn’t eat it up fast enough.

My breath hitched, and I instinctively lowered my head, but Isaac didn’t break stride.

He held my hand.

In front of everyone.

Firm. Unapologetic.

Like daring the world to ask why.

I was still trembling when we reached the car outside. Black. Sleek. Unmistakably his.

The driver moved toward the door, but Isaac’s voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Get out. I’ll drive.”

The man blinked. “Sir?”

“You heard me.”

The driver backed off without another word, eyes wide.

Isaac opened the door for me himself, his palm still warm against the small of my back as I climbed in.

Inside smelled like him—clean, masculine, expensive.

He reached into the center console, pulled out a cold bottle of water, cracked the seal, and handed it to me.

I stared at it for a second before taking it, my hands barely steady enough to hold it right.

None of this made sense.

Why was he here? Why did he care?

“You don’t seem like a man who needs a nurse, Isaac,” I managed to say. “Why did you really bring me to your home?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Just gripped the wheel tighter, his gaze fixed on the road.

Then, low—quiet enough to punch the air out of me—he said:

“Because I want to learn how to love again. And I want it to be with you.”

My heart stilled.