“So, Doc,” I cut in, perhaps a bit more sharply than intended, “what’s the verdict? When can I get out of here?”
Patrick turned his attention back to me, his expression shifting to professional focus. “Let’s take a look, shall we?” He gently prodded my leg, watching my face for any signs of discomfort. “Any pain here?”
I winced slightly. “A bit, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“Tough guy, huh?” He chuckled, making a note on his clipboard. Then, he helped me into a sitting position so he could listen to my lungs. “Well, West, I’m pleased to say you’re in remarkably good shape, considering what you’ve been through. The leg injury is mostly superficial, and your lungs are clearing up nicely from the smoke inhalation.”
I felt a wave of relief wash over me. “So I can go home?”
“I don’t see why not.” He nodded. “Provided you take it easy for the next few days. No heroics, no heavy lifting, and definitely no running into burning buildings.” He winked at me, then turned to Drew. “Think you can keep an eye on him?”
Drew’s hand found mine again, squeezing gently. “Don’t worry, Patrick. I won’t let him out of my sight.”
Something in Drew’s tone made my heart skip a beat. I glanced at him, trying to read his expression, but he was looking at the doctor.
“Excellent,” Patrick said, scribbling on a prescription pad. “I’m writing you a script for some mild painkillers, just in case. But mostly, what you need is rest and TLC.” He handed the prescription to Drew with a smile. “I have a feeling you’re in good hands, West.”
As Patrick left the room, I turned to Drew, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know. I can take care of myself.”
Drew’s eyes met mine, and the intensity I saw there took my breath away. “I know you can,” he said softly. “But I want to. Let me take care of you, West. Please?”
I swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the emotions swirling inside me. “Okay,” I whispered.
As Drew helped me out of bed, his arm around my waist for support, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us. The air felt charged with possibility, and for the first time, I allowed myself to hope that maybe, just maybe, Drew felt it too.
9
DREW
The acrid smell of smoke clung to us as I helped West out of the car, his body trembling slightly against mine. Our eyes met for a fleeting moment before darting away, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between us.
“You okay?” I asked softly as we approached our building.
West nodded, his jaw clenched. “Just need to get inside.”
I fumbled with the keys, hyperaware of West’s proximity. His warm breath tickled my neck as I finally got the door open. We shuffled into the elevator, and I pressed the button for our floor.
The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating. I desperately wanted to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words stuck in my throat.
When we entered our apartment, West’s shoulders sagged with relief. “I need a shower. All I can smell is the smoke.”
“Of course,” I replied, guiding him toward his bedroom. “Do you need help with anything?”
He shook his head but didn’t pull away from my supportive arm around his waist. “I’ve got it from here. Thanks, Drew.”
I hovered uncertainly in the doorway as West disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of running water soon filled the air.
“I’ll make some coffee,” I called out. “And maybe some toast?”
“Sounds good,” West’s voice drifted back, muffled by the shower.
When I got to the kitchen, I held on to the sink and let the tension I’d been holding on to release. Tears ran unchecked down my face as the events of the night replayed on a loop—the panic when I’d seen the fire, the overwhelming relief when I saw West was okay. And underneath it all, the current of complicated feelings I’d been trying to ignore for far too long.
I shook my head and grabbed a towel to wipe my face. I hoped my eyes weren’t too red, but if West noticed anything I’d say it must be from the smoke.
West needed me right now—as a friend, nothing more. I’d push everything else aside and be there for him, just like always.
The familiar routine of making coffee steadied me. By the time the toast popped up, I felt more grounded. I arranged everything on a tray, taking a deep breath before returning to West’s room.
