Page 41 of Forgiveness River

Raven took a deep breath, compartmentalizing her fear the way she’d watched Wyatt do countless times. “He’s been shot.”

Anne’s hands flew to her mouth, but she steadied herself visibly. “I’ll get Mick. We’ll take my car.”

“I’m coming with you.” Raven was already shutting down systems, transferring command functions to Tommy’s secondary team. Her hands moved with mechanical efficiency while her mind raced ahead to the hospital, to Wyatt, to the long hours that would follow.

“Of course you are,” Anne said, her voice gentling. “He’ll need you there when he wakes up.”

When, not if. The certainty in Anne’s tone provided a small measure of comfort as they rushed from the command center. Outside, the morning had fully broken, sunlight streaming across the ranch in golden shafts that seemed obscenely beautiful against the backdrop of violence and fear.

In the distance, Raven could hear the distinctive thrum of helicopter blades cutting through the air—the medevac unit racing toward the hunting lodge. Toward Wyatt. She closed her eyes briefly, sending a silent prayer to whatever forces might be listening.

God, bring him back to me. Please. We’ve only just found each other again.

The drive to the hospital passed in a blur of silent prayers and half-formed thoughts. Anne’s hands gripped the steeringwheel with white-knuckled intensity, her usual grace replaced by focused determination as she navigated the mountain roads faster than Raven had ever seen her drive.

Mick sat in the passenger seat, his face set in lines of grim concern. Unlike his wife’s expressive worry, his fear manifested as stillness—a contained energy that reminded Raven so much of Wyatt that her throat tightened.

They reached the hospital just as the medevac helicopter touched down on the landing pad. Raven was out of the car before Anne had fully stopped, racing toward the entrance.

“They’re bringing him in now,” Colt said, catching Raven’s arm as she tried to push past him toward the emergency entrance. “Let the trauma team do their job, Raven. They’ve already called in the best shoulder specialist in the state—she’s on her way from Boise.”

“I need to see him,” Raven insisted, a desperate edge creeping into her voice.

“You will,” Colt promised. “But first, let them stabilize him.”

The next hours stretched into an eternity of waiting room vigils, hushed conversations, and the steady influx of O’Haras as word spread through the family. Hank and Sophie arrived with coffee and sandwiches no one ate. Duncan and Hattie came next, the latter’s advanced pregnancy doing nothing to slow her determination to be present. Aidan paced the waiting area like a caged predator, while Blaze cycled in and out between coordinating the aftermath of the operation and checking on his cousin.

Through it all, Raven sat eerily still, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes fixed on the doors through which news would eventually come. She’d been through this before—the waiting, the uncertainty, the helplessness. It was an unfortunate side effect of loving a man who put himself in danger for others. But this was different. This was after they’d finally found their wayback to each other, after promises of new beginnings and second chances.

The surgeon had allowed Colt in the operating room, and when Colt finally emerged through the double doors, the entire family rose as one.

“He’s stable,” Colt announced, the collective exhale of relief almost a physical force in the room. “The bullet tore through muscle but missed the major arteries and nerves. Dr. Brenner was able to repair the damage. He lost a lot of blood, and there were multiple lacerations from the glass that required stitching, but the prognosis is good. Full recovery expected with physical therapy.”

Raven swayed slightly, Anne’s arm instantly around her shoulders providing support. “When can I see him?”

“He’s in recovery now. Once he’s moved to a room, you can go in.” Colt’s expression softened. “He was asking for you when he briefly regained consciousness in the ER. First word out of his mouth was your name.”

Something tight and cold that had been lodged in Raven’s chest since Wyatt’s comm went silent finally began to thaw. He was alive. He was going to recover. They would have their second chance after all.

“Thank you,” she whispered, the words wholly inadequate for the depth of her gratitude.

Colt nodded, understanding what she couldn’t articulate. “He’s tough, Raven. Always has been. And he has something worth fighting for.”

The family gradually dispersed as the hours wore on, heading home for showers and changes of clothes, taking shifts so Wyatt would never be alone. But Raven remained, refusing to leave even when Anne gently suggested she get some rest.

“I promised him I’d be here when he woke up,” she said simply.

And so she waited, through the transfer from recovery to a private room, through the nurses’ regular checks and the doctor’s evening rounds. She sat beside his bed, holding his hand, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the hospital blanket.

Outside, darkness fell over Laurel Valley, stars appearing one by one in the velvet sky. Inside, Raven kept her vigil, drawing comfort from the steady beep of the monitors and the warmth of Wyatt’s hand in hers.

“You kept your promise,” she whispered, though she knew he couldn’t hear her. “You came back to me. Now I’m keeping mine. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Sleep eventually claimed her, her head coming to rest on the edge of his bed, their fingers still intertwined. And through the long night, as Wyatt fought his way back to consciousness, that connection remained unbroken—a lifeline drawing him home.

Epilogue

One YearLater

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