“I appreciate that. Thank you.”
We shook hands again, and I went back in. I stood at the foot of the bed for a second before sitting back in the chair by her bedside. When I finally reached for her hand, it was warm and soft. I thumbed over the bracelet on her wrist and let my fingers settle there. I needed that contact more than she did.
“You scared the hell out of me, Angel,” I whispered. “Fuck, don’t ever do that again.”
She didn’t even stir. I leaned back in the chair, still holding her hand, and closed my eyes.
I’d almost lost her. Not permanently, but for a few minutes there, I didn’t know what was happening. And that not knowing had been the worst feeling in the world. That old panic rose up, the same shit I thought I buried with the first life I lost.
I couldn’t do this again. Couldn’t go through this again. Was I the problem? And truth be told, I’d seen pieces of this coming. I just underestimated how hard she was pushing herself. Which meant I needed to make some changes. I needed to make sure she knew she didn’t have to work herself to death, that I had her. That we had each other.
I opened my eyes and looked at her again.
And I made a decision.
When she woke up, we were going to talk. Really talk. About the future. About us. About what came next.
After about forty-five minutes, she stirred.
First, her fingers twitched under my thumb, then her breathing changed, deeper, like her body was trying to decide if the world was safe enough to return to. I sat up, heart in my damn throat.
“Halo?” I said, my voice sounding rougher than hers would when she finally spoke.
She blinked once, slow and disoriented, then again as her focus settled. Her head turned toward me, brows pulled tight.
“Vinny…?”
I let out a breath so deep it felt like I’d been underwater. “Yeah, baby. I’m right here.”
She tried to sit up. I put a hand on her shoulder.
“No. Don’t. Just chill.”
Her eyes drifted around the room, taking in the IV, the monitors, the curtain, all of it, then snapping back to me. Hard.
“What happened?” she asked, voice scratchy.
“You collapsed at work.” The words sounded wrong as they came out. “Passed out in the middle of a damn fire. They brought you in.”
She closed her eyes, bracing herself for a truth she wasn’t ready to hear.
She swallowed, winced, then tried again. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t apologize.” It came out sharper than I meant. I took a breath. “Just… don’t do that.”
Her eyes opened again, softer, trying to read the tightness I couldn’t keep off my face.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she whispered.
“You did,” I whispered back. “You scared the shit outta me.”
She looked away, blinking slowly. “I didn’t think it was that bad. I was going to rest tonight.”
“That’s the part that’s fucking me up.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, her hand still in mine. I needed her to feel me. “You didn’t think it was that bad because you’re so used to running on empty. You’re used to pushing through when you're not supposed to. But that shits not flying with me. Not anymore.”
She looked back at me, eyes glassy, a little stubborn, and a little guilty. “It’s my job. I won’t quit my job. Today was a one-time thing.”
Lowkey, that pissed me off. In my eyes, the last thing on her mind right now should be that job. They’d mourn her, but they’d replace her just as fast. That was reality.
