She presses the orange tip against my outer thigh and pushes until it clicks. I barely feel the needle through the numbness that's spread throughout my body. She holds it for a count of three, then removes it, massaging the spot.
"There," she soothes. "Now we wait."
The epinephrine hits my system like a lightning bolt, sending my already racing heart into overdrive. But almost immediately, the vise around my throat begins to loosen, just enough to pull in a real breath.
"That's it," Dad murmurs, still holding my hand. His thumb traces circles on my palm. "Just breathe."
Gradually, the room comes back into focus. The tingling in my lips subsides, and though the hives still burn across my skin, the terrifying sensation of my airway closing has stopped.
"We should still take her to the hospital," Mr. Harper says. "For observation."
Mom nods. "I'll drive. Richard, can you grab her coat?"
As they prepare to move me, I notice Ethan and Olivia whispering to each other, their expressions unreadable. My foggy brain tries to make sense of their behavior, but I'm too exhausted to puzzle it out now.
"I'm coming with you," Bash says firmly, not to me but to my parents. It's not a request.
"Me too." Emily adds.
Mom nods. "Of course."
Emily helps me to my feet, and Bash's arm circles my waist, supporting my weight. I lean into him, grateful for his solid presence.
"Thank you," I whisper, my voice still raspy.
He presses his lips to my temple. "Don't thank me. Just be okay."
The cold night air hits my face as we step onto the porch, and I shiver. The epinephrine is making my heart race, but my breathing is already easier. Bash tightens his hold on me.
"Cold?" he asks.
I nod against his chest.
"We'll have you warm soon," he promises, his voice so gentle it makes my chest ache.
My father pulls up in the SUV, and Emily climbs in, moving back towards the third row and Bash carefully places me in the backseat before sliding in beside me. Mom takes the front passenger seat, turning to watch me with worried eyes.
As we pull away from the Harper house, I lean heavily against Bash's side. He places my coat onto me and then wraps me in his arms, and I feel his lips press briefly against the top of my head.
"Thank you," I whisper.
His arm tightens around me and he's quiet for a moment, and when he speaks, his voice is rough with emotion. "I will always be there when you need me, Charlie. Always."
The conviction in his voice makes tears prick at my eyes. I want to say more—but exhaustion crashes over me like a wave. The adrenaline from both the EpiPen and the fear is wearing off, leaving me drained.
Instead, I simply turn my face into his shoulder and close my eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull me into a state of half-sleep as we drive toward the hospital.
In that twilight space between consciousness and dreams, one thought circles in my mind: Bash didn't hesitate. Not for a second. When I needed him most, he was there—running through the snow, breaking into a sprint, doing whatever it took to get back to me.
And if that isn't love, I don't know what is.
Chapter thirty-three
Bash
The hospital lights blur past us as Richard wheels Charlie out through the sliding doors. She looks small in the wheelchair, a blanket tucked around her legs, her face still paler than normal despite the doctor's assurance that she's stable now. Her auburn hair spills over her shoulders, messy from the hours spent in the hospital bed.
I watch as she fidgets with the hem of her plaid pajama top, a small smile finally returning to her face. Her mom and Emily went back to the house during our hospital stay, and her mom brought back a soft blue set from Charlie’s suitcase.
