Page 116 of Promised to the Cowboy

For one endless second, nothing changes.

Then the monitor gives a single beat.

Another. Uneven. Fragile.

But there.

Ethan’s hand goes to Gabriel’s throat. “I’ve got a pulse.”

The words don’t make sense.

I stare at him. “What?”

“I’ve got a pulse.”

Jacob’s hands remain suspended over Gabriel’s chest. He looks afraid to touch him. Afraid the beat might vanish if he moves.

Gabriel drags in a ragged breath. The sound is awful. And the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

His eyelids flutter.

“Gabe?”

One blue eye opens. Then the green. Unfocused at first. Rolling. Searching.

The first face he finds is Jacob’s.

The two of them stare at each other.

Father and son.

Thirty years of looking away ending here in the dirt, with Jacob’s hands still shaking over the heart he forced back into rhythm.

“Dad,” Gabriel rasps.

Jacob makes a sound that breaks me clean through. He bows over him, one hand going to the side of Gabriel’s face. “I’m here. I’m right here, son.”

Then Gabriel’s eyes move. Find me.

“There you are,” I whisper.

His mouth shifts weakly. “Still here.”

I laugh and sob at the same time. “You absolute idiot.”

His fingers twitch against my stomach. Our daughter moves beneath his palm.

His eyes close briefly. “There’s my girl. Both my girls.”

Then the paramedics reach us, and the field fills with efficient hands, oxygen, equipment, and orders.

But Gabriel’s pulse is beating.

Jacob brought him back.

The world tried to take him, but he stayed.

The paramedics move us back.