For a few moments, neither of us spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward or strained, but it was filled with the kind of tension that comes from realizing that maybe—just maybe—something had shifted between us. I didn’t want to think about what it meant, not here, not yet. All I wanted was to keep her warm, keep her safe, and hope that Sean would show up soon.
The cold continued to gnaw at our skin, acting like a constant reminder of just how fucked up our situation was. Every now and then, Emma would tremble, and I’d rub her arms, trying to push some life back into her limbs.
After a long while, she stirred in my arms, shifting her weight as she let out a long, drawn-out yawn. “I feel tired,” she murmured.
I shifted, trying to keep her upright as best I could, but I could feel her slumping back against me. Her body felt heavier, like she was fighting to stay conscious.
“Hmmm, I’m tired, Caden,” she repeated, as her head lolled to the side. Her eyelids fluttered, and a surge of panic rose in the pit of my stomach.
“I know, baby, but you’ve gotta stay awake,” I urged, struggling to keep the concern out of my tone. I gently shook her, trying to keep her alert. If she fell asleep now, there was no telling if she’d wake up again. The cold was relentless, and her body was starting to give in.
“Baby, huh?” she mumbled, her words slurring slightly. A faint smile tugged at her lips, but her eyes were barely open. “I guess babies sleep a lot too,” she added softer, as if the very act of speaking was taking too much energy.
I managed a weak smile, though her words only deepened my worry. “Sure, that’s why I called you that,” I said, trying to sound lighthearted.
But she didn’t respond, nor did she move. Her breathing grew more rhythmic, a sign she was slipping closer to sleep.
I tightened my hold on her, my heart pounding in my chest. “Emma, you’ve gotta stay with me, okay?” I said, my voice firm but gentle. “You can’t fall asleep. Talk to me, yell at me—hell, even punch me if it keeps you awake.”
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t respond. The silence that followed was deafening, and I knew we were beginning to run out of time.
FORTY-THREE
CADEN
"Stay the fuck with me, Emma!"
I cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as I gently shook her, trying to keep her from drifting further into the fatigue that was overtaking her.
“Huh?” she replied, her voice delayed, like she had to pull herself back from the edge just to respond.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, as I tried to keep the spiking anxiety at bay. “Listen to me. You’ve got tofightthe exhaustion. Talk to me. Yell at me. Call me one of those colorful names you save just for me.”
“Okay,” she mumbled, the sound so faint it nearly vanished into the freezing air. Her eyelids fluttered, the effort to keep them open etched across her face.
“Can I ask you something?” I murmured, hoping to keep her engaged, to stop her from sinking any deeper into that dangerous, cold-induced haze.
“Sure,” she replied, though her speech was slurred, before another yawn escaped her lips.
I hesitated for a second, knowing what I was about to bring up wasn’t just delicate—it was painful. But I had to say something that would jolt her awake, something she couldn’t ignore. And this? It would do the trick.
“We haven’t really talked about it yet, but…” I paused, knowing this was the moment. “Have you thought about your son?”
Bingo. Her eyes flew wide open, and the sluggishness disappeared, replaced by sudden awareness. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, relief washing over me.
"Have I thought about the man who will fight for our future existence?” Her words hung in the freezing air, quiet but heavy with meaning. “Yes, I have. Have I thought about him being my son…"
"Every single day."
Her words were filled with emotions so raw they sent shivers through me, more so than the ice around us.
“So have I,” I admitted, my voice low and steady, hoping to match the gravity of what she had just shared. It wasn’t easy talking about this—about him, about Alek—but we couldn’t avoid it anymore.
Emma’s focus locked onto me, searching for something, as if she were trying to see through me, to read every hidden part of me. Then, as understanding flickered in her gaze, she whispered, “It must’ve been a massive mindfuck, finding out you could be his dad.”
I smiled warmly, hoping to ease the nervousness I saw building in her eyes. “No more than you finding out he’s your son.”
She nodded softly, her expression shifting from the raw vulnerability to something more contemplative. “I try not tofocus on the part where I’m not there for him,” she said quietly. “We don’t know yet what’s going to happen. All we know is, Alek will exist. And he will be massively badass.”
