Her head.
My Venus.
Her hair spills everywhere, her shoulders shaking with quiet, exhausted sobs like she’s been fighting a battle alone.
I try to move, but only a small sound escapes my throat…a dry scrape, like rocks grinding in a riverbed.
A warmth floods my chest, cutting through the pain.
I find my voice, or what’s left of it.
“Baby…”
It comes out a hoarse whisper, broken, but enough.
Her entire body jolts.
Her head lifts, tears streaking down her cheeks, eyes huge and terrified and beautiful in that way pain makes something even more precious.
“E-Ethan?” Her voice breaks on my name.“Oh God, oh my God…”
She reaches for me like she doesn’t trust her own eyes, like touching me might prove I’m real.
I manage a faint smile. My lips are dry, but I force the word again.
“Baby…”
She covers her mouth with one shaking hand and lets out a sob that guts me, it’s raw, relieved, disbelieving.
Then her hands are on my face, gentle and frantic.
“You’re awake, Ethan, you’re awake!”
Her forehead drops to mine, and I feel her tears on my skin. And I swear I’ve never felt anything so real, so anchoring.
I try to lift my good hand, slow, clumsy, and brush my fingers through her hair.
“Shh,” I whisper, voice sandpaper.“I’m not going anywhere.”
She crumples against me, her arms sliding carefully around my waist above the wires and bandages.
“I thought I lost you,” she cries into my gown.“I thought…, he shot you, there was so much blood…I couldn’t, Ethan…”
Her words dissolve into sobs.
I close my eyes because the pain in my arm is nothing compared to the pain in her voice.
“I’m here,” I murmur, forcing my hand to keep moving through her hair.“Baby, look at me.”
She lifts her head, lashes wet, chest heaving.
“I’m here,” I repeat softly.“You didn’t lose me.”
Her face breaks open, relief, grief, love, so fierce it nearly knocks the air out of me.
“You jumped in front of me,” she whispers.“You took a bullet for me.”
I swallow hard, throat tight.
