Family
RONNY’S POV
I never thought I’d be the kind of man who needed anyone.
For so long, I convinced myself I could carry the world on my shoulders without ever letting it crush me. I thought if I kept everyone at arm’s length, if I stayed sharp and closed off, I’d never be weak. Never be vulnerable. Never be the little boy who once sat on cold steps waiting for parents who never came back.
But sitting there in that sterile waiting room, the taste of metal and fear thick in my throat, I realized just how wrong I’d been.
Because they came.
Every last one of them.
The sound of their footsteps still echoed inside me—steady, purposeful, together. And when I lifted my head and saw them standing there, I felt something shift. Something I hadn’t even known was locked inside me all these years.
For a second, I couldn’t breathe.
Hardin, Vera, Mark, Jess… even Ariana, her frame tucked close against Hardin’s side, worry etched into her features. They looked out of place against the hard, clinical lines of the hospital, like a vision, like a reminder that I wasn’t alone in this.
My throat burned, my jaw clenched. I didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to let them in without unraveling.
And then Vera moved.
Before I could blink, she was across the room, arms flung around me. I stiffened on instinct, body locked tight, but then her voice cut through the fog.
“She’ll be fine,” she whispered fiercely, like she could force it into the universe just by saying it enough times. “She’s strong. She’s going to make it, Ronny.”
The fight went out of me. My body sank, heavy and shaking, into her embrace. For the first time in years—hell, maybe ever—I let myself be held. I let myself lean, let myself need.
And something inside me melted.
I didn’t realize I was shaking until Mark’s hand came down on my shoulder, steady and grounding. His fingers squeezed, a silent anchor, and when I looked up at him, there was no judgment in his eyes. Just… support. Quiet and unshakable.
My chest tightened until it hurt.
Hardin was watching too, his expression carried a promise. A reminder that he’d always stand in front of me when the world tried to hit too hard.
And Jess—Christ, Jess. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed like she didn’t give a damn about hospital rules, her chin tilted up, eyes fierce. But when she caught my gaze, she gave me the smallest nod. No words, no theatrics. Just a silent vow: I’m here.
And for the first time in my life, I felt it.
Love.
Not the fleeting kind. Not the dangerous, conditional kind. But the kind that rooted itself deep in your bones, the kind that held you up when you couldn’t stand. The kind that didn’t care how many walls you built because it would tear them down anyway.
It hit me hard, the realization that the family I’d been chasing all my life—the one I thought abandoned me, the one I thought I’d never find—was right here in front of me. They weren’t bound by blood or names, but by choice. By loyalty. By something stronger than DNA.
And they weren’t going anywhere.
I swallowed hard, blinking against the sting in my eyes, but before I could form a single word, a doctor emerged from behind the ER doors.
We all froze.
Time stopped.
He walked toward us with a clipboard tucked under his arm, his expression calm, professional, unreadable. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might crack.
“Family of Liliana Arthur?” he asked.
“Yes.” The word tore out of me before anyone else could speak. My voice was raw, rough, but steady enough to carry.
The doctor nodded once, flipping through his notes. Then he looked up. “She’s stable. Out of immediate danger.”
The words hit me like oxygen. My knees almost buckled. I gripped the edge of the chair beside me, holding on for dear life.
“She sustained trauma from the crash,” he continued, “but the most critical issue was her asthma. The accident triggered a severe attack, which is why she stopped breathing in the ambulance. It was touch and go for a while, but she responded to treatment. She’s breathing on her own now.”
“She’s okay?” My voice cracked. “She’s really okay?”
“She’ll need monitoring, but yes. She’s going to be fine.”
The relief that ripped through me was violent, almost painful. My whole body sagged, trembling with the release of a fear I hadn’t even realized was swallowing me alive. I dragged a hand down my face, trying to ground myself, but all I could hear was that single word.
Fine.
Liliana was fine.
Beside me, Vera pressed her hands together like she was praying, whispering something under her breath. Hardin closed his eyes for a long moment, before pulling Ariana closer.
And Jess… Jess just grinned. A wild, shaky grin that broke something in my chest all over again.
“See?” she said, her voice rough but teasing, like she couldn’t help herself. “I told you she’s going to be just fine.”
A laugh burst out of me, sharp and broken, but real. God, it felt good to laugh again.
The doctor gave us a few more instructions, reassurances, and then disappeared back through the swinging doors.
It was late—so late the hallways had gone quiet, the hospital settling into that strange, hushed rhythm of the dead of night. My body was screaming at me to collapse, to give in to the exhaustion clawing at my bones, but I couldn’t. Not yet.
Hardin started to say something, but I cut him off.
“You should take Ariana home,” I said quietly. My voice was firm, even though my chest ached at the thought of letting anyone go. “She needs rest. She doesn’t need to be stuck here all night.”
Hardin frowned, shaking his head. “We’re not leaving you here alone—”
“You’re not,” I interrupted, glancing around at the others. “But she’s pregnant, Hardin. She needs sleep. Please. Do this for me.”
Ariana looked like she wanted to argue too, but I met her eyes and gave her the smallest smile I could manage. After a long beat, she nodded.
Hardin finally relented, though his eyes lingered on me like he was trying to make sure I wouldn’t fall apart the second he left. “Call me if anything changes.”
“I will.”
He hugged me—tight, strong, brotherly—before guiding Ariana down the hall.
I turned to the others.
“You guys should—”
“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” Jess cut in, her arms crossed tight. “My best friend finally gets a girlfriend and she crashes her damn car? You think I’m leaving before I see her eyes open? Not a chance in hell.”
Her words tugged another broken laugh out of me, and I managed a smile, nodding. “Fair enough.”
Mark and Vera didn’t even bother responding. They just settled into the stiff plastic chairs, like they’d decided this waiting room was home for the night.
And so we waited.
Minutes bled into hours, the sterile lights above us humming, the smell of antiseptic searing itself into my brain. None of us spoke much; we didn’t need to. Their presence was enough. Their quiet support filled the hollow that had been gnawing at me since the ambulance doors slammed shut.
I sat there, staring at the floor, at my hands, at the double doors that stood between me and the woman I loved. My chest ached, my body shook with exhaustion, but I held on. Because soon—soon I’d see her again.
And then, finally, a nurse appeared.
“You can go in now,” she said softly.
My heart stopped.
I shot to my feet, my whole body alive with nervous energy. Mark squeezed my arm, grounding me again. Vera gave me one last fierce hug, whispering, “She’s okay. Go to her.”
Jess grinned at me, but there was softness in her eyes too. “Don’t screw this up, Romeo.”
I managed a shaky smile, then turned toward the doors.
My chest felt like it might burst. Every step was heavy and light at once, like I was walking into the rest of my life.
I pushed the door open.
And everything else fell away.
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