“Come on.” To no one. To myself. To him. “A little further.”
Three more feet felt like three miles.
Collapsed next to the frame myself, sucking air as though I’d run a marathon. Everything trembled.
His head lolled. Eyelids never opened. Breathing shallow and too fast.
Stood there for a moment, palms braced on my knees, staring at him.
Unconscious. Vulnerable. Dangerous even in sleep, something about the way tension coiled in muscle, ready to explode into violence at the slightest provocation.
He’d tried to reach me. Had nearly killed himself getting off that bed, fever-delirious and barely conscious, trying to find me.
An ache bloomed in my chest. Unexpected. Unwelcome.
Shoved it down hard and turned to the bags I’d dropped by the door.
Real medical supplies spread across my bed ten minutes later. IV kit. Broad-spectrum antibiotics. Sterile bandages. Saline bags hanging from my coat rack, because apparently that’s what coat racks were for now. First time I’d had proper equipment since this nightmare started.
Tearing open the IV kit, tremors ran through my fingers.
“Come on.” Squeezed them into fists, released. “Get it together.”
Still shaking.
“Dammit.”
Pressed my palms flat to the mattress, breathing slow and deliberate. In. Out. The way they’d taught us in nursing school for high-stress situations. In. Out.
The tremors eased enough.
Xavier hadn’t moved. Still unconscious, chest rising and falling in that labored rhythm that made my stomach clench. Fever climbed under his skin, turning him into a furnace. Pressed the back of my knuckles to his forehead and swore.
103, maybe 104. Bad. Really bad.
The apartment was barely warmer than it had been. The radiator clanked occasionally but put out pathetic heat. My breath still fogged. Xavier’s skin was hot but the air around us was cold, and hypothermia could come back fast if I wasn’t careful.
Grabbed the covers I’d piled on him earlier, tucked them around his lower half. Kept his torso exposed enough to work but made sure his legs, his core, stayed wrapped.
“Stay warm. You just crawled out of hypothermia. Let’s not go back.”
Worked fast. Tried to work fast. Years of ER training meant muscle memory knew the motions even when my brain felt sluggish with exhaustion. Found a vein in his right arm. Missed it the first stick.
“Shit.”
Tried again. Thank god for steadier coordination. The needle slid in clean this time. Saline flowing, antibiotics mixing in.
Broad-spectrum antibiotics. The medical equivalent of “throw everything at it and pray.” Solid strategy when you had no idea what you were treating. Solid strategy when you were way out of your depth and making it up as you went.
Cut away my earlier bandage work. Crude but it had held. The rib injury had reopened during his collapse, fresh blood seeping through gauze, dark and wet. His shoulder joint was swollen but holding. Everything needed proper cleaning, proper bandages, proper care his system desperately needed.
Everything I should have done hours ago if I’d had the supplies.
If I’d been smarter. Faster. Better.
The radiator chose that moment to clank louder, groaning its death rattle. Which it probably was.
Looked at it. Then at the ceiling. “Thanks, universe. Really appreciate the timing.”
