I only slept a few hours here and there, and always woke up in a panic worried that he’d stopped breathing. My nightmares were full of gruesome images of carving the flesh from his bones while Sayla and his mother stood by and watched, blaming me for his death. I was exhausted and worn thin, but that was enough to put me off sleep as much as I could manage.
Little by little, Penny’s color returned, though his breathing remained labored. By midday on the second day when his fingers twitched and he let out a soft groan, I dared to let myself hope that he was through the worst of it. It was the most he’d stirred since his seizure after Harlan and I had gotten him into bed. All I needed was for him toopen his eyes. As long as he woke up, I knew he would be okay.
It was a few more hours—spent pressed as close to him as I could get with my arm resting across his torso so I could feel the rise and fall of his breaths—before he moved again. He groped out with one hand, his brow furrowing until he found mine where it lay on his chest. He sighed, and his expression smoothed.
My breath caught, and I wound our fingers together. When he didn’t give any other sign of waking, I leaned up on my elbow. “Pen?”
Green eyes cracked open. He blinked a few times against the afternoon sunlight slanting in the window, then rolled his head to the side to face me. His tired smile was like a balm to my lingering worry.
“You’re okay,” he said, squeezing my hand with what little strength he had.
I felt far from okay.
I felt destroyed, like I’d stared death in the face for days, and it had taken every ounce of my resolve not to be the first to look away. But somehow, I won.Wewon. We lived. Relief brought tears to my eyes.
I leaned in to slide my arms around Penny and crush him in a desperate embrace.
“Me?” I murmured with my face buried in his hair. “You nearlydied, and you’re worried aboutme?”
His arms crept around me. “You were so sick…” He clutched the fabric of my shirt. “I thought you were dying. But you’re alive. We made it.”
“We made it,” I echoed. That was enough for now.
I could have stayed there for the rest of the day and fallen asleep in the comfort of his embrace, but Penny’s arms trembled with the effort of holding on, so I pulledback. I cupped his face in my hands to convince myself he was really awake, really okay, then leaned in for a gentle kiss.
“You must be hungry,” I said as I straightened. “I’ll go make you something.”
Even with him awake, I was reluctant to leave the room. Fear lurked in the back of my mind that I’d return and find that, in my exhaustion, I’d imagined this. Or worse, that I was dreaming, and a new kind of nightmare would come upon waking.
Before he could protest or insist on accompanying me, I climbed out of the bed and shuffled to the kitchen. After several days of not making it to the market for fresh ingredients, my options were limited. But there was plenty of oatmeal, some honey, dried strawberries, and a handful of pecans in the pantry to round it out.
Stirring the oatmeal on the stove was almost hypnotic, lulling me into a place of peace I hadn’t seen in days. It gave me a chance to let my mind go blank and my thoughts quiet as I swirled the fruit and honey in and watched it turn faintly pink. By the time it was done, I was drowsy and unsure how much longer I could stay awake.
I loaded the oatmeal into two bowls and topped them with crushed pecans. With a glass of water tucked in the crook of my arm, I returned to the bedroom and set everything on top of the dresser.
“Let’s get you propped up,” I said, turning to find Penny picking at the bandages around his left elbow.
“What’s this from?” he asked.
I didn’t want to keep things from him, but it didn’t feel like the right time to tell him I’d sought outside help.
“You needed fluids.” I helped him to sitand piled a folded blanket and a pillow behind him to give him something to lean against.
He looked at me, his eyes ringed in shadows of exhaustion. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
I managed a tired smile. “Yes, but so is charcoal.”
“Oh,” he said, settling back. “Fair point.”
I offered the water first, which he guzzled down, then I pressed a bowl into his hands. “Eat as much as you can handle. You’ll need the fuel to recover.”
He picked at it, taking a few experimental bites before digging in. I mostly poked at my own, finding my stomach still queasy and not wanting to revisit the violent vomiting fits of a few days prior. Penny cleaned his bowl in no time and, after heated protest that I needed to eat more, he finished mine, as well.
Full and warm with the addition of another blanket over his feet, he was dozing before I even left the room. I ferried our dirty dishes to the kitchen and returned the pillows to the couch, then rejoined Penny under the covers.
“I thought this bed was too small,” he murmured.
He draped an arm around my shoulders as I settled in with my head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath my ear helped me breathe easier.
