He nods, eyes still closed. Then he steps back, pulls out his phone, types, and lifts the screen to my face.
We have to go to the hospital.
I nod.
He types again.
Catherine told the police you were not at home, and that Dad slipped.
He slides the phone back into his pocket and moves toward me. His hands come to my cheeks, guiding my face closer to his.
“C c c… aa,” he tries.
The sound tangles in his throat. He shakes his head and drops his forehead to mine.
A tear slips down my cheek as I look at him. I don’t cry because it is beautiful. I cry because it costs him so much just to try to say my name.
“It is okay,” I whisper, brushing my lips against his. “I hear you.”
His hands tremble on my cheeks, like if he lets go, whatever is holding him together will fall apart.
He swallows. Hard.
His jaw tightens, then loosens. His throat works like he is forcing something through that refuses to move.
“C c c… aa…”
The sound breaks before it can become a word.
His eyes squeeze shut. Frustration flashes across his face. He leans his forehead into mine again, heavier this time, like he needs the pressure to stay standing. His shoulders rise and fall. Once. Twice.
I don’t move away.
My hands slide to his chest, gripping his blood-stained shirt, pulling him closer.
“I know,” I whisper.
Slowly, he opens his eyes and looks at me, like he is checking to see if I am still here. Like he is afraid I might disappear if he fails again.
I press my forehead to his and breathe with him.
“I am right here,” I murmur. “Kiss me. You broke that promise before. Break it again.”
He nods and presses his lips to mine.
His hands move to my hips, guiding me back toward his bike. He lifts me just enough to settle me against the seat.
His face drifts down from my collarbone to my stomach, leaving the faint trace of his breath along my skin.
I catch on a breath.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper. “Please.”
No one is around us, only the sound of our breathing and the way he holds me like I am the only thing keeping him upright.
As his fingers catch the edge of my jeans and start to ease them down, my hand flies to my mouth. I bite into my knuckles, a sharp breath trapped behind my teeth.
This is the line.
