The words felt inadequate. What I wanted to say was that I’d spent the last thirty-six hours drifting in and out of consciousness, and every time I surfaced, my first thought was of her. I wanted to tell her that, when I’d been flying through the air toward that storefront window, time had slowed down enough for me to think one clear thought:I haven’t told her enough. I haven’t loved her enough. I need more time with her.
She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes scanning me with that mix of tenderness and worry that made me feel simultaneously guilty and cherished. I knew I looked like hell—pale, stubbled, covered in bandages. The doctors kept telling me how lucky I was, and intellectually I understood that. A few inches to the left and the glass would have severed my femoral artery completely. A few degrees different in the angle ofimpact and I might have snapped my neck. Lucky. That’s what they called it.
But looking at Jesse now, I understood luck differently. Lucky was having someone who’d rushed to the hospital and offered her blood without hesitation. Lucky was having someone whose face was the first thing I wanted to see when I opened my eyes.
She leaned in to kiss me gently, carefully, as though I might shatter. I wasn’t having that. I cupped the back of her neck and drew her in for a deep, hungry kiss. I needed her to know I was still here. Need and heat radiated between us, and beneath it all, a desperate gratitude that we still had this. That I was still alive to taste her lips, feel her warmth, breathe in the familiar scent of her skin.
I’d come so close to losing all of it. The memory of the accident kept replaying in fragments—the spongy feel of the brakes, the moment the front tire hit that pothole, the sickening sensation of weightlessness before impact, the sound of glass exploding around me. And then pain, so much pain, and the terrifying warmth of blood leaving my body.
As we drew apart, I kept her close, my eyes tracing her features—her beautiful green eyes, the graceful line of her jaw, the way her lips curved in a soft smile, trying to mask her worry. I wanted to memorize every detail. I’d almost lost the chance to look at her like this.
“I missed you too,” she whispered, brushing her fingers gently over my cheekbone. “You look like you should star inFight Club. You’re way sexier than Brad Pitt.”
I smiled, stroking her lips with the pad of my thumb. “You need eyeglasses. You’re so beautiful, Jesse.”
She lowered her eyes. I loved that about her, the way compliments made her uncomfortable, the way she never seemed to see what I saw when I looked at her. She was sofierce and capable in every other aspect of her life, but genuine admiration still caught her off guard. I found it endearing.
“You’re the one who needs glasses.” She moved slightly and sat back down on the bed, close enough to hold my hand. “Seriously, how are you doing? Has the doctor seen you today?”
“He says I’m doing great, all things considered. And they do give me some good drugs, so I’m not in much pain.”
That was a lie. Every breath reminded me of my broken ribs, and my shoulder throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. But I didn’t want her to worry more than she already was.
“He says I can go home in a few days,” I went on, “but can’t say for sure how many. They’ll probably move me out of the ICU soon. Good news, right? Thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful.”
“You’re welcome. I wanted to get you something you’d really enjoy, like a burger and fries, but I didn’t think you’d be allowed to eat that.”
I gave her a lopsided smile. “Not yet. Nurse Davies brought me a homemade muffin, and Nurse Chang brought me one of those fancy yogurts with bits of fruit and cereal in it.”
She shook her head, and I caught the flash of jealousy in her grin. “No woman can resist you, huh?”
“There’s only one woman I want, and she resisted me for years.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Seriously? Sweet talk?”
“You love sweets.”
I watched her smile, and something settled in my chest. This was what I’d almost lost. Not just my life, but this—the easy banter, the way she looked at me as though I was simultaneously the most frustrating and most beloved person in her world. The near-death experience had stripped away all the noise, all the petty concerns and daily anxieties, and left only this truth: I wanted to spend whatever time I had left with her.
The doctors said I’d make a full recovery. Weeks of healing, probably some physical therapy for my shoulder, careful movement until my ribs knit back together. But lying in this hospital bed, I’d had plenty of time to think about mortality in a way I never had before. My parents had been in their early forties when they’d died in that car crash. Sometimes, when I’d ridden my bike, I’d pushed the speed, wondering what they’d felt in those last moments. Whether they’d had time to be scared, or if it had been mercifully quick. At least they went together. I thought the pain of one of them having to live without the other was worse than death. It would be for me if I ever lost Jesse.
“Where did you get the tablet?” Jesse yanked me away from the darkness in my mind.
“Nurse Phillips. It’s her daughter’s. She was happy to let me borrow it for a bit.”
“I’ll bet.”
If I were in better shape, I knew she would have given me a playful punch. I loved that about her, the way she didn’t take my charm seriously, the way she saw through all my bullshit to the real person underneath. Lara had loved the surface Sebastian, the one who knew how to say all the right things. Jesse loved the mess underneath, the scared kid who’d built walls with no doors around his heart. Lucky for me, the woman knew how to handle a sledgehammer.
“How’s Robin?” I asked.
“He’s great. Janine brought him home this morning. He’s king of the house again.”
“He can have that title until I return.”
She grinned. “By the way, the girls and Cam were here last night. Cam will come and see you later today. They’ve all signed up to donate blood.”
Something warm expanded in my chest, pushing against my broken ribs. “That’s really amazing of them.”
