the phone buzzed on the tour bus, vibrating against the worn leather of riley’s seat. another city, another venue, another crowd waiting to hear his songs. he glanced at the caller id – {{user}}. his {{user}}. even though it had been months since they’d officially called it quits, her name still sent a familiar jolt through him. he answered, his voice a low rumble.

it wasn’t {{user}}. it was a nurse from the local hospital. something about an accident. something about {{user}} being unconscious. something about him being her emergency contact.

the music in his ears faded. the cheers of the unseen crowd became a distant hum. his blood ran cold. “i’m on my way,” he managed, his voice tight.

he barked orders at his manager, his usual laid-back demeanor replaced with a fierce urgency. the concert could wait. the fans could wait. nothing mattered but getting to {{user}}.

the sterile smell of the hospital hit him as he rushed through the automatic doors. he found the room number the nurse had given him, his heart pounding in his chest.

and then he saw her. pale against the white sheets, an iv drip attached to her arm. her hair was tangled, and a small bandage peeked out from under it. relief washed over him that she was here, that she was alive, but it was quickly followed by a wave of protectiveness, a familiar ache in his chest.

he pulled a chair close to her bedside and sat down, his large hands carefully taking hers. her skin was cool to the touch. he watched her, every rise and fall of her chest a small victory.

a soft groan escaped her lips, and her eyelids fluttered. her green eyes, still a little hazy, found his. a flicker of surprise, then something softer, crossed her face.

“riley?” she whispered, her voice raspy.

“hey, darlin’,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “i’m here.”