His mind swam with thoughts of yet another surgery. More rehab and recovery. But none of that worried him. Not when he’d survived the impossible.

No, the only thing that made him wary was the thought of going to sleep and waking up alone. He knew his concern was more superstitious than logical, which was why he’d taken the drugs, doing the right thing for his body. And now, regardless of his feelings on the matter, sleep won, and he slipped into blessed, pain-free oblivion.

He had no idea how long he’d been under when his mind slowly surfaced. The pain was back, but muted, a dull ache in key places.

Manageable.

His eyelids were too heavy to open right away, so he listened, letting his other senses do the heavy lifting. He wasn’t hooked up to a heart monitor or IV. There was nothing tying him down. That was a good sign.

He tried to remember why he was here. It came to him quickly, slicing through groggy barriers. The slide. Battered by logs and rocks and a deluge of mud.

Audrey’s face when she saw him afterward.

With that memory came the fear of opening his eyes and finding history repeating itself. Would she be here? Or was the thought of being with a broken former SEAL too much for her too?

Surely the world couldn’t be so cruel as to spare him twice and then punish him for his mistakes in the same way.

Punishment. He’d never realized that was how he’d viewed Lynn’s rejection. A deserved action for a man who’d been part of a disastrous op in which two SEALs died.

It was part survivor’s guilt, but there was more to it. He’d been slow to react.

Now his mistakes were the same. His training. His plan. Slow to react when things went south. And this time, Audrey had reason to want to punish him.

If she walked away from him now, he’d be getting nothing less than what he deserved.

He heard a rustling sound and realized he wasn’t alone. He dared to raise heavy eyelids. The room was dark. No light leaked around the pulled shade, so he guessed it was night.

He tilted his head to see the woman sleeping in the chair on his right side.

His heart pounded. His Audrey. Here. She hadn’t left him.

In fact, she looked like she’d done little more than wash her face since escaping the forest.

Well versed in the buttons of hospital beds, he hit the one that would raise the head to a comfortable angle.

Her eyes popped open at the sound of the hydraulic lift. “Xavier.” She said his name with excitement, but her voice remained soft and low.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

She unfolded herself from the visitor’s chair and was by his side, running a gentle hand over his jaw. “How do you feel?”