Page 123 of Wild Tangled Hearts

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he says, between gasps of air.

A team of paramedics rushes to help Sebastian as soon as the ambulance arrives. They quickly assess his condition and administer oxygen. I watch in sheer terror, helpless as they work to stabilize him.

The paramedic looks at me and asks, “Does he have any underlying medical conditions?”

I’m taken aback by the question, but before I can respond, Sebastian speaks weakly, “Cystic fibrosis.”

“What?” I stammer, unable to comprehend his words. My mind races with a thousand questions, each more urgent than the last.

The paramedics work diligently to stabilize him as they prepare to move him into the ambulance, and a sense of dread grips me. The memories of the stories he’d shared about his brother Tobias linger like a haunting shadow.

I step closer, my voice shaking, but filled with determination. “I’ll meet you at the hospital,” I tell him, my eyes locked onto his. “It’ll be okay.”

He nods weakly and mouths the words, “I’m sorry.”

They close the doors, and a deep sense of unease rushes through me as the vehicle starts to pull away, its sirens blaring.

As I follow the ambulance through the crowded streets, regret and guilt gnaw at me. I’d been so wrong about him, about the assumptions I’d made, and the anger I’d harbored. My emotions are a turbulent storm of frustration and fear, and it feels like my body is numb with the weight of it all.

I park my car and rush inside when I arrive at the hospital. Minutes and hours seem to stretch endlessly as I pace the sterile waiting area.

Finally, a nurse approaches, and I follow her down the corridors. When I enter Sebastian’s room, I see him lying in the hospital bed, looking visibly better than when he was on my porch. He manages a weak smile as he reaches out his arm toward me.

I step closer and take his hand, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. His fingers tighten around mine.

Sebastian’s thumb strokes my cheek, then tucks my hair behind my ear, his touch sending a comforting warmth through me.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “For not giving you a chance to explain.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” His voice, though raspy, carries a sincerity that melts away my lingering guilt. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I should have told you.”

“Why didn’t you?” I ask, entwining his fingers with mine.

He glances away. “So many reasons. I wanted you to see me, not the disease. And then, I was afraid.” Those dark, intense eyes focus on me. “I don’t want to lose you. And I know it’s not fair to ask you to be with me. Not when my future is so uncertain.”

My breath catches at his words, confirming what I already know. His life is fragile.

I brush my lips against his, a gentle kiss that conveys all the love and frustration warring inside me. Then I rest my forehead on his chest, his arms wrapping around me in a protective embrace.

“I love you,” I whisper.

“I love you, too,” he says, tilting my chin so I look at him. “I want a life with you. A future. But I can’t guarantee anything, Bella.”

Tears prick at my eyes, spilling over my cheeks. This is so much worse than thinking he’d cheated on me. I can’t help but wish, in the deepest recesses of my mind, that I could go back to the days when I was blissfully unaware.

But I love him.Even in the moments when anger and hurt clouded my heart, it was still his. How can I even entertain the thought of walking away now?

I hold him tighter as if my grip alone can anchor us in this storm of uncertainty and fear. Desperately, I cling to him, not wanting to let go, as if he might somehow drift away from me.

“Bella?” his tone is tired, defeated. “You should also know that most men with CF are infertile. A life with me means you’ll never have kids.”

The revelation lands like a heavy blow, knocking the wind out of me.

Part of me wants to tell him it doesn’t matter, that we’ll face anything life throws at us. That our love is stronger than any obstacle, any disease. But there’s another voice inside me, one that tells me I need time to think, talk to my mom, and consider the impact of what he’s told me.

My heart aches with love for him.

But is love enough?

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