I pause at the threshold of Jacob’s room. He’s fallen asleep in the seven and a half minutes it took me to get here. The lights in his room are dimmed, and two of his IVs—the scary one in his neck and the one in his left hand—have been taken out. The tube in his chest is gone, too, and the catheter. With the cast on his leg hidden under the blankets, he’s just a little paler and thinner than usual, like he’s got a bad flu.
I run my fingertips over the back of his left hand, which is bandaged where the IV used to be. He stirs under my touch, blinking at me groggily.
“Hey,” he mumbles.
I sit down on the edge of his bed, my chest painfully tight. “Hey, you.” I take his left hand in both of mine. It’s impossible not to touch him right now. “How’re you feeling?”
His throat moves as he swallows. “Like shit.”
“Yeah, you look like shit.”
His mouth turns up, like I hoped it would. I can’t stop myself anymore—I lean over and brush my mouth over his, careful and soft. His lips are dry, and his skin is still colder than I’d like, but fuck, I never thought I’d get to do that again.
I clear my throat against the lump that’s forming in it. “You want me to get you another blanket?”
He shakes his head. “Just gonna close my eyes again.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be here.”
“Mmk.” He’s already drifting off.
“Hey, Jacob?” I say quietly. With visible effort, he opens his eyes again. I slide my hand over his neck, stroking my thumb over the soft, sensitive skin under his ear. “I love you.”
It isn’t hard to say this time. I don’t have to build up the nerve or push the words out. He’s here with me, alive. That’s all the push I need.
He stares at me for a moment, then his eyes flutter closed again. “I know,” he murmurs.
“Oh yeah?” My voice comes out a little hoarse.
His lips twitch, even as his breathing starts to even out. “Heard you before,” he mumbles.
I breathe out a laugh. Of course he heard me, all those months ago. He was probably having a great time, waiting for me to work up the nerve to say it again. It’s something he would do. Like the time he ordered Greek food three nights in a row before I finally admitted I don’t like it. He grinned and kicked me under the table and said, “About time, idiot.”
It was hard for me, sometimes, to tell him what I was feeling. He always said I was too easygoing for my own good, but really, I was just scared that I’d lose him. That he’d learn too much about me and stop thinking I was special.
I lean over and kiss his cheek. “Love you,” I whisper again, though I know he’s too deeply asleep to hear me. I can’t help it. I like the sound of it too much.
Jean comes in a few minutes later to check on him, and rolls his eyes when he sees me holding Jacob’s hand. It’s a fond sort of eyeroll, though, like what you’d expect from a bratty younger brother.
“I will bring you in a cot,” he says grudgingly, and heads out of the room.
I last about four hours at Jacob’s side before I give in and crash for a few hours on the cot Jean set up by the window. Jean wakes me at eight by clearing his throat loudly and impatiently.
“Family has just arrived,” he says, as I push myself up, my back and neck loudly protesting my sleeping position. “I tell them I am doing rounds. You want to wait at the nursing station while they come in, oui?”
I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. “No,” I say firmly. “I want to talk to them.”
Jean raises an eyebrow. “Good luck,” he says doubtfully.
He leaves briefly and returns with a breakfast tray for Jacob, who’s been given the okay to eat, apparently, but only small amounts of soft, bland foods. Jacob’s still fast asleep, which Jean tells me is normal after two weeks of being critically ill.
“He will improve quickly,” he says. “He is young—you will see.”
I thank him, but a nagging voice in the back of my mind reminds me that Antony looked as good as Jacob, and he still died. I make a mental note to ask Dr. K if she knows what Antony died from, and how we can prevent it from happening to Jacob.
While Jean goes to get Jacob’s family, I give myself a firm pep talk, though it’s mostly Heather’s words that I can hear.Plan out what you want to say to them, and then ask them to hear you out.
Jacob’s mother enters first, followed closely by his father, Paul, and Lily. My pulse doubles, but I grit my teeth. Better to get them all over with at once.
