Chapter 7
When I came to, I felt myself being lifted.
A voice reached me—hoarse, breaking.
“Evelyn!”
“Stay with me. Look at me.”
I forced my eyes open. Saw a face streaked with blood. Familiar.
“Ethan…”
The word barely left my lips before everything went dark again.
…
The next time I woke, I heard the roar of engines.
I was strapped to a stretcher, splints immobilizing my limbs. Monitors beeped steadily beside me.
The cabin was dim. Just the rhythmic sound of machines.
Ethan Cross sat nearby, still in his blood-stained combat gear. His eyes were bloodshot.
“Where…” My throat was dry, raw.
“Medical transport. We’re flying overseas.” He leaned down, helped me take a sip of water. “They have better neurosurgeons and microsurgeons there.”
“I’ve already contacted the specialists. Surgery as soon as we land.”
—
I tried to move my legs. Felt nothing. My heart sank.
“Ethan, my legs…”
He paused. When he spoke, his voice was tight.
“The doctors say there’s hope.”
“As long as there’s a chance, I’m not giving up.”
“You’re a surgeon, Evelyn. I know what that means to you. Your hands, your legs—I’ll make sure you get them back.”
…
When I opened my eyes again, I saw an unfamiliar ceiling.
Outside the window, a foreign sky. Signs on the walls in another language.
Foreign military doctors were talking with Ethan.
When they saw I was awake, Ethan grabbed my hand.
“Results came back. Your lumbar nerves are badly damaged, but not completely severed.”
“They’ll do decompression surgery first, then repair. After that, long-term rehab.”
“Your wrist—it’s a comminuted fracture, but they can reconstruct the joint and tendons. Best techniques available.”
“Don’t give up, Evelyn. I’m right here.”
—
Surgery after surgery. The lights going on, going dark, over and over.
The last time I woke, Ethan was beside the bed. He looked wrecked.
When he saw my eyes open, he leaned in close. “Does it hurt? The surgery went well. Stick with the rehab and you’ll recover.”
Tears slid down my face. The weight that had been crushing my chest finally lifted.
Early rehab was brutal. I couldn’t even sit up straight.
The therapist barked commands, told me to grip the bars and try to lift my leg.
The first time I tried to stand, I managed three seconds before I hit the floor.
Everything went white with pain.
Ethan shot up from his chair, but the therapist blocked him.
“She needs to learn how to fall and get back up on her own.”
I saw Ethan’s eyes go red. His lip turned white where he bit down. But he stayed where he was.
I gritted my teeth. Grabbed the bars, pulled myself up in both in each.
I smiled at him.
Tears spilled down his face.
That day, I fell seven times.
Ethan’s hands stayed locked behind his back. His nails dug into his
—
palms.
That night when the nurse changed his bandages, I saw his hands—covered in crescent-shaped cuts.
My chest ached. I didn’t say anything.
Six months later, I could finally walk from one end of the rehab room to the other with crutches.
People in the room applauded.
I turned around. Ethan stood in the doorway.
His hand covered his face. His shoulders shook.
He rushed over, pulled me into his arms. His voice broke.
“I’m sorry, Evelyn.”
“I shouldn’t have left you alone back home.”
“If I hadn’t left…”
He couldn’t finish. His thin shoulders were rigid.
“I didn’t leave because I didn’t want to be around you. I left because I realized what I felt for you… it wasn’t what a brother should feel.”
“I thought you’d be disgusted if you knew. So I requested the overseas deployment.”
“But when you got hurt, I lost my mind.”
“Seeing you on the ground, covered in blood—all I could think was if you died, I couldn’t keep living either.”
—
His forehead pressed against my shoulder. His voice dropped low.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not leaving again.”
“Never letting you go. Not for the rest of my life.”
My nose stung. Tears came.
We weren’t blood related.
He was my stepfather’s son.
After our parents died in the car accident, we only had each other.
Relatives said I was dead weight. Told him to leave me behind.
But he dropped out of military academy. Worked to put me through school, running between construction sites, restaurant kitchens, and my school every day.
Until I got into military medical school.
That’s when I realized my feelings for him had changed.
I’d get anxious when he talked to female soldiers.
But before I could tell him I loved him, he suddenly requested a transfer overseas.
Left without looking back.
I thought he’d figured out how I felt and was avoiding me on purpose.
Turns out I was wrong.
—
I wrapped my arms around him.
“Ethan,” I said softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”
His arms tightened.
“But are you… disgusted? By me?”
I rested my face against his shoulder. My eyes burned.
“No.”
“I’m just happy.”
Silence hung in the air for a moment.
Then I heard it—his laugh, quiet and relieved.
I looked up. His face was wet with tears.
…
I thought I’d never see Lucas again.
That day, Ethan had a mission. He’d asked an aide to take me to the park near the base—get me some fresh air.
The winter sun was pale. People passed by.
I was looking down at my phone when the wheelchair stopped.
I looked up.
A familiar figure stood a few steps away.
Thinner than I remembered. His uniform hung loose.
—
His jaw was clean-shaven, but he couldn’t hide how exhausted he was.
Lucas froze for two seconds. Then his eyes lit up.
The next second, he was running toward me.
“Evelyn—”