This was the first time I’d been awake long enough to communicate with anyone. Before, it had been a groan and a fluttering of my lashes before I fell back under.
“Why didn’t you tell us about you and Roman?” Mom asked as she sat on my other side.
“I didn’t want to explain until I had to,” I admitted. “And then everything ended, so I didn’t have to.”
She sighed. “Were you two serious?”
I shook my head, wincing because I still had an awful headache. “No.”
I thought we were, but I’d been so damn wrong.
“We’re OK with it,” she murmured. “Me and Dad. You both deserve to be happy, and if it’s together, you have our blessings. So don’t let us influence your decision.”
I sniffled as I stared back at her. “Really?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Roman was always a good man. He hasn’t left your side in a week. Dad had to force him to eat this morning.”
I looked down at the man with his head on my mattress, his body twisted in what appeared to be an uncomfortable position.
“When he wakes, talk to him,” Mom said gently. “He’s been worried sick.”
I swallowed and nodded. “I will. You should go home. Get something to eat. Have a nice shower and nap. Dad too. Tell him the coffee here is terrible, and he should go get a real cup.”
She smiled at that. “I think we will. Just promise me you’ll talk to him.”
“I will,” I whispered.
She leaned in and kissed my forehead gently. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
She left a few moments at that, leaving me alone with a sleeping Roman. He seemed to have the right idea. I gave his hand a small squeeze before I closed my eyes, drifting off.
I groaned softlyas I fluttered my lashes. Night had fallen. The sun no longer peeked at me from beneath the hospital blinds.
Immediately, Roman’s voice called out to me.
“Sasha? Hey,” he said thickly, his voice trembling.
He was still here.
I peered at him through swollen eyelids.
“Roman,” I murmured tiredly. “Why are you still here?”
“Because I’m worried about you,” he answered softly. “Because the moment I heard you were hurt, I came. I-I…”
I exhaled, my body aching. “You should go home.”
“No,” he said fiercely. “I’m not leaving you.”
“You already did,” I said hoarsely. “Remember?”
He was quiet for a moment, his hand still wrapped around mine.
“I fucked up,” he finally choked out. “With you. I fucked up, Sasha. I’m sorry. I’m worried about you.”
“You could’ve just asked her for an update if you were worried about my well-being.”
