Adison’s POV
Jake appears in the hospital room doorway, and I manage a weak smile despite the pounding in my skull.
He crosses silently to my bedside and takes my hand. His grip is firm and trembling at the same time, and that contradiction tells me everything about the hours I've been unconscious.
"I'm fine." The words come out rougher than I intend, my throat dry from whatever they pumped into my IV.
"You weren't fine." His voice catches on the correction, something raw breaking through the controlled exterior. "But now everything will be."
He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead, his lips warm against my skin. The tenderness of it makes my chest ache.
"Rest." He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. "Zachary, Tommy, and I will bring you home soon."
"Are the others waiting?" I picture them in that sterile waiting room, uncomfortable chairs and fluorescent lights.
"Everyone's here." Jake's thumb traces circles across my knuckles. "You terrified us, Adison. All of us."
"It wasn't the horse's fault." The defense rises automatically. "Something spooked her. She didn't mean to throw me."
A ghost of a smile crosses Jake's face. "I won't punish the horse."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
By next evening, I'm back at the ranch under strict orders: bed rest, no screens. The doctor's instructions echo in my head like a sentence I didn't ask for.
The following days blur together in a haze of pillows and forced stillness. Zachary sets up a makeshift office in the corner of my room, laptop balanced on his knees, phone pressed to his ear as he handles crisis after crisis with impressive competence.
I watch him navigate a board dispute on day two, his voice calm and authoritative as he diffuses tensions I would have escalated.
"Why didn't my father ever consider you for CEO?" The question escapes before I can second-guess it.
Zachary looks up from his screen, surprise flickering across his features. Then he laughs—genuine and startled.
"That's absurd." He shakes his head, returning his attention to the laptop. "I'm support staff. Always have been."
"You'd manage better than I do." I shift against the pillows, frustrated by how weak my body still feels. "You're handling everything right now without breaking a sweat."
"That's the concussion talking." His eyes crinkle with amusement. "Give it a few days. You'll remember why you're the boss."
The laugh that escapes me feels easy. Uncomplicated. Something I haven't experienced in weeks.
Visitors rotate through my recovery like scheduled appointments. Paige brings sweetness—gentle questions about how I'm feeling, offers to fetch anything I might need. Her kindness carries no agenda, and I find myself grateful for her simple presence.
Violet brings uncharacteristic silence. She sits in the corner chair for twenty minutes without speaking, her expression carrying something I can't quite read. When she finally leaves, she pauses at the door.
"I'm glad you're okay." The words come out stiff, like she's practicing a language she doesn't speak fluently.
Tommy arrives with apples. Green ones, specifically, because somewhere along the way he learned that their acidity soothes my nausea.
"Sarah mentioned it helps with morning sickness." He sets the bag on my nightstand, ears turning pink. "Figured it couldn't hurt."
The gesture lands somewhere tender in my chest. These people—this makeshift family I stumbled into—actually care about me.
On the third day, Jake enters my room with purpose written across his features.
"Zachary." His voice carries an edge I recognize. "Give us a minute."
The laptop disappears with Zachary, and the room falls quiet. Jake closes the door behind him, then stands at the foot of my bed like he's gathering courage for something difficult.
"Are you feeling well enough to talk?" He asks it carefully, giving me an exit I don't take.
"I'm fine. What's wrong?"
"I know about the pregnancy."
The words land in the space between us. I wait for shock to hit, but it doesn't come. Of course he knows. The hospital would have told him.
"I assumed the doctor informed you." I keep my voice steady despite the anxiety climbing my spine.
"It wasn't the doctor." Jake's jaw tightens, something painful moving behind his eyes. "It was Zachary. At the hospital intake. He told the medical staff you were pregnant so they could adjust your treatment."
The implication settles over me like cold water. He learned from a stranger. The most important secret I've been carrying, and he heard it from someone else.
"Jake—"
"Do you have any idea what that felt like?" His restraint crumbles, weeks of suppressed emotion finally breaking through. "Finding out I'm going to be a father from your assistant? While you're unconscious and I don't know if you're going to wake up?"
"I was going to tell you." The defense sounds weak even to my own ears.
"When?" He steps closer, frustration radiating from every line of his body. "You've been hiding this for weeks. Riding horses when you knew the risks. Barely eating. Endangering yourself and our child because you couldn't trust me with the truth."
"I'm not a child who needs managing." The anger rises to meet his, defensive and sharp. "You don't get to lecture me about my choices."
"Someone needs to." His voice cracks on the words. "You could have lost the baby, Adison. You could have lost yourself. And I would have been standing in that waiting room with no idea why."
"How exactly was I supposed to tell you?" I push myself upright despite the protest from my aching body. "We haven't defined anything between us. You disappeared for weeks after I sent you away. I had no idea if you even wanted children—if you wanted any of this."
"So you decided for both of us?" Jake's hands curl at his sides. "You made choices about our future without giving me a voice in them?"
"I made choices about my body." The distinction matters, even if he can't see it. "My health. My pregnancy. You don't get to be angry that I didn't consult you on something this personal when our entire relationship has been undefined."
"Undefined." He repeats the word like it tastes bitter. "Is that what we are?"
"I don't know what we are." The confession tears out of me, raw and honest. "That's the whole problem, Jake. I don't know if you're staying or leaving. I don't know if this ranch is my home or just a place I'm visiting. I don't know anything except that I'm pregnant and terrified and completely alone in figuring out what that means."