For now, it's enough. We'll have time for words later. Time for sorting through everything that's happened between us, for figuring out what comes next.
But standing here with her, alive and warm in my arms, I make a silent promise to myself: I won't waste this second chance. Whatever it takes, whatever she needs, I'll be there.
And if Ethan Harper deliberately put shellfish in that lasagna? Well, that's a conversation for another day—one that won't end well for him.
Chapter thirty-four
Charlie
I wake gradually, my body feeling heavy and my mind foggy. The familiar ceiling of my bedroom comes into focus as I blink away the last traces of medication-induced sleep. My throat still feels slightly raw, but the terrifying tightness is completely gone. I stretch experimentally, relieved to find my limbs responding without the tingling numbness that had overtaken them during the reaction.
The bathroom door opens and steam billows out, carrying the clean scent of my soap. Bash emerges, his hair damp and tousled, a white towel slung dangerously low on his hips. Water droplets cling to his broad shoulders and chest, catching the low light filtering through the curtains.
When he notices my open eyes, a smile breaks across his face.
"Evenin', Shortcake," he says, voice warm and low. "Welcome back to the land of the living."
I push myself up against the pillows. "Evening? What time is it?"
He reaches for his phone on the nightstand. "5:36."
"PM?" I bolt upright, then immediately regret the sudden movement as my head spins slightly. "You're kidding. I slept the entire day? Why didn't you wake me up?"
He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. "Doctor's orders. Rest and fluids." His expression softens. "You needed it, Charlie. Last night was... that was scary."
"So you just sat here watching me sleep all day?" I tease, trying to lighten the lingering concern in his eyes.
"Not the whole time." He grins. "But I did periodically stick my finger under your nose to make sure you were still breathing."
I laugh, the sound surprising me with its normalcy after everything that happened. "A very scientific approach."
"I considered the mirror-under-the-nose test, but I couldn't find a small enough mirror."
My eyes drift over his body—the defined muscles of his back, the strong shoulders, the scar on his knee that's now visible without his usual jeans covering it. A pleasant warmth begins to replace the lingering medicinal fog in my brain.
Bash catches me looking and raises an eyebrow. "Are you ogling me, Shortcake?"
"One thousand percent, I am," I admit without hesitation. "It's the best view I've had all day."
He laughs, but then his expression shifts, becoming more serious. He takes my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
"Charlie, I..." He pauses, swallowing hard. "Last night, when you couldn't breathe, when I was running back here for your EpiPen, all I could think was that I might lose you without ever really having you in the first place."
The raw emotion in his voice strips away any remnants of our pretense. I scoot closer to him, tucking my legs underneath me.
"I'm sorry about everything," he tries to continue.
"No," I interrupt, squeezing his hand. "I'm the one who should apologize. I overreacted to what was happening between us. I compared you to Ethan in my mind, which was unfair." I look down at our intertwined fingers. "I was just... scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Of this." I gesture between us. "Of how real it feels. How fast I'm feeling it."
He lifts my chin with his finger until I meet his eyes. "I'm scared too. But not as scared as I was watching you struggle to breathe."
We look at each other for a long moment, the air between us charged with everything we've been dancing around since this trip began.
"Can we start over?" I ask softly. "Not completely—I don't want to lose what we've found here. But can we just... be honest with each other from now on? No more pretending?"
