Something flickers in her expression—hope, maybe, or fear that hope will be snatched away again. "You really think I can do this?"
"I know you can."
"How? How can you be so sure when I'm not sure of anything?"
I take her hand and press it to my chest, right over my heart. "Because I believe in you. And someday, you're going to believe in yourself too."
She doesn't respond, just curls closer to me, tucking her head under my chin.
I pull the blanket over us and hold her tight, listening to the sound of her breathing slow as she drifts toward sleep.
I don't sleep. I can't. Not when I know that in a few hours, I have to let her go.
So, I lie there in the darkness, memorizing the weight of her in my arms, the scent of her hair, the rhythm of her heartbeat against my chest.
I lie there and pray to a God I'm not sure I believe in that this time will be different.
That she'll come back to me whole.
That the woman I fell in love with is still in there somewhere, fighting her way back to the surface.
One more time,I think.Give her one more chance.
Give us one more chance.
Morning comes too soon.
Vanna wakes slowly, blinking against the gray light filtering through the thin curtains.
For a moment, she looks confused—like she doesn't know where she is or how she got here.
Then her eyes find mine, and she remembers.
"Hey," she says softly.
"Hey."
She stretches, wincing slightly, and I hate myself for the satisfaction I feel knowing that she's sore from last night.
That I left my mark on her in a way that has nothing to do with pain and everything to do with love.
"What time is it?" she asks.
"A little after seven. We should get on the road soon."
The words hang between us, heavy with everything they mean.
The road. The facility. The twelve weeks she'll spend away from me, fighting a battle I can't fight for her.
Vanna nods slowly, her expression shuttering.
The peace from last night is already fading, replaced by the fear that's become her constant companion.
"Okay," she says. "I'll take a quick shower."
She disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the water start a moment later.
I use the time to get dressed, to pack up the few things we brought, to prepare myself for the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
