The nurse hesitates.“If you stay calm.”
I nod once.“I’m calm.”
That’s a lie.My insides feel like frayed electrical wires, sparking at every breath.But I move to the foot of the bed, giving Kelly as much space as I can without leaving her defenseless.
Her gaze finds mine again—wide, uncertain, confused—and it hits me like a sucker punch.
She’s scared of me.She never used to be scared of me.
When she speaks, her voice is barely there.“Were we close?”
I don’t know how to answer that.Yes.No.Not enough.Too much.
The silence stretches and she looks down, twisting her fingers weakly in the blanket.Her nails are chipped.There’s a small cut on her knuckle.Her wrist is bruised.My vision goes red at the edges—pure rage at whoever did this, pure helplessness because I wasn’t there to stop it.
“We knew each other,” I manage, keeping my voice even.“Spent time together.”
Her eyes lift.“Friends?”
God.If there was ever a moment I hated more in my life, I can’t remember it.
I swallow hard.“Yeah,” I say the words as the pure disgust at the label sits heavy on my tongue.“Friends.”
The nurse gives a tiny approving nod.“Good.Familiar connections can help recovery.”
But that’s the thing—I don’t feel like a familiar connection to her.I feel like a stranger standing in the ruins of something I didn’t appreciate until the second it was gone.
Kelly shifts against the pillows, wincing.“Why were you the first person here?”
“Ally called me,” I answer immediately.“She was with Chux.He told me.I came as fast as I could.”
She studies me, trying to make sense of it.There’s a crease between her brows, the same one she gets when she can’t find an ingredient on a high shelf.
Except this time I can’t reach up and hand her what she needs.
“You look…” she searches for the word, “…worried.”
I let out a soft huff.“Yeah, sunshine.I’m worried.”
Her breath catches slightly.She blinks.“Sunshine?”
I freeze.
Damn it.
That nickname slipped out before I could pull it back.I haven’t called her that in weeks—not since the days of our arrangement when she used to roll her eyes and pretend she hated it even though she smiled every time.
The nurse looks between us, sensing something heavy.“Sometimes familiar language can help stimulate recall,” she says quietly.
Kelly’s cheeks warm slightly.“Do you… call me that a lot?”
I shake my head.“Used to.”
“Why did you stop?”
Because I walked away from you.Because I didn’t think I deserved to call you anything that sounded like affection.Because you were slipping through my fingers and I told myself it was safer to let you go.
I force myself to look at the wall, not at her.“Things changed,” I reply.
