Chux raises a brow.“You sure you can give her the second one?”
I don’t smile.“Not sure of anything anymore.”
He claps my shoulder.“You’ll figure it out.You usually do.”
When he leaves with Ally once she tells Kelly goodbye, I take a few slow breaths before pushing the door open fully.Kelly’s head snaps up the second I enter.Her shoulders relax.Her face softens.Her pulse visibly slows in her neck.
I stop dead at the threshold.
Because she’s looking at me the way she used to not from memories.But with instinct.With trust and connection between us.
And something fierce inside me roars to life.
I cross the room.
“You okay?”I ask.
She nods, but the truth is written all over her face.“I just didn’t want you to be gone.”
The words hit me like a punch.
“I’m not gone,” I state.“Not now.Not tomorrow.Not until you’re safe.Not ever.”The last words are a whisper I’m not sure she hears.
Her eyes glisten.“Good.”
I sink back into the chair beside her, elbows on my knees.Her hand rests lightly on the blanket near mine.I don’t touch her.Not yet.Not until she’s sure.But she inches her fingers toward mine like gravity pulled them.She stops with a whisper of space between us.I close that distance with the gentlest brush of my pinky.She breathes in sharply.
My voice is low, rough.“Kelly, I know you don’t remember me.But I remember you.Every bit.And I swear to you I’m not gonna fail you again.”
Her eyes flutter shut.“I don’t know why, but I believe that too.”
My chest tightens so hard it hurts.
She opens her eyes again, voice a whisper.“Ledger, I’m scared to sleep.”
“I know.”
“What if I forget more?”
“You won’t.”
“What if I wake up and you’re not here?”
I meet her gaze steadily.“Learned a lesson about leavin’ before, sunshine.It won’t happen again.”
“Before?”she asks.
I decide not to get into all of the past and instead, I say softly.“I’m gonna stay until you’re okay.”
Her lips part.Her breath shakes.She stares at me for a long moment.Then her hand finds mine fully, slow, hesitant, but sure.
The warmth of her fingers sends something electric through me.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I shake my head once.“Don’t thank me.Just get better.”
She nods, exhaustion pulling at her edges again.Her eyes drift closed, her hand still in mine.
