“Coming?”
“Your mom’s passport’s expired. They’ll meet us when we fly in, wherever that is.”
I nod and lick my lips. Everything fucking hurts now.
Oh, hey, I’m not dying.
“You were right,” I say.
His brow furrows. “About what?”
I sigh. “Dying’s easy.” I think about the sounds Lisa made as she guzzled sea water. That will probably haunt me until my dying day. “Surviving’s hard.”
His face…he crumples as he leans in, kissing me. “Oh, pet.” He’s crying again, and it breaks my heart. When he can finally speak again, his voice sounds so choked and full of emotion he can barely talk. “I’m so proud of you, baby. You have no idea how proud. I love you so fucking much. I’ve got you now. You can sleep and rest. I’m not leaving you. I’ll take care of you, I swear.”
I feel him swipe lip balm over my lips. “Can you take a few sips of stuff for me?” he asks.
I make fish lips at him—or, I try—and he tearfully laughs. But I manage a couple of pulls off the straw.
“Take me home, Sir.”
“We will. You need at least a week here before they’ll release you, bare minimum. Probably more. I had Dray working on that. We got a nutrition doctor from FSU on the phone to talk with the doctors here, and he did a consult. You’re stable. It’s better we keep you here and then just take you back to the US, rather than shuffling you around while you’re still so fragile.”
I nod. “Flying sucks.”
I think he’s laughing at first, but it sounds wrong. It’s only when he leans in, his forehead against mind and his hands cupping my face, that I realize he’s crying once more.
Sobbing.
With my fingers wrapped around his hand, I go back to sleep.
* * * *
I guess it’s only an hour or so this time. I startle awake at the sound of people talking.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re moving you to a private room,” Carter says. “You’re stable enough to be out of ICU, but we’re worried about the press and stuff. I want you protected.”
“Okay. Connie?”
“She’s okay. Better off than you.”
“I have a confession.”
He frowns and leans in. “What?”
“I told George about you and Owen. I thought I was dying.”
That time when he laughs, it sounds sweet and deep and easy. “I’ve already talked to Governor Forrester. He warned me that, for a woman who was convinced she was dying, you loved to quote Monty Python and talk a lot.”
“Oh. So he did get a promotion. Good for him.”
I mean, not goodwhyhe did, but…
#shutupImnotatmybest
Carter sadly nods. “Yeah. A lot of people did, pet. Alotof people. The hard way.”
