Fever spiked again. Applied cool compresses, changed bandages when they soaked through. The routine becoming automatic, muscle memory taking over when my brain felt sluggish. When my thoughts kept stuttering, losing their place.
Pulled the chair to his bedside.
Just for a moment. Just to rest.
My legs were shaking. Actually shaking. Collapsed into the chair more than sat.
Still monitoring, the rise and fall of his chest, the IV drip steady in the background.
“Five minutes. That’s all. Five minutes and then back to work. Before he dies. Or the police show up. Or both.”
Before I collapsed completely. Before I couldn’t get back up.
Questions flooded in with exhaustion.
What the hell was I doing? Harboring a fugitive. Probably a killer. Definitely bleeding all over my sheets. Multiple felonies. The kind with actual prison time.
Mom’s book club would lose their shit. Actually, screw the book club. Going to lose my license. Or my life. Maybe both. Probably both.
But even thinking it, even knowing it, I knew I’d make the same choice. Would drag him inside again. Would steal medical supplies again. Would hide him from police again.
Would probably get us both killed, but I’d do it anyway because something in me couldn’t walk away.
She would have approved. She always thought I played it too safe.
“Well...” Whispered to the empty room. Voice cracking. “Not playing it safe anymore. Hope you’re happy wherever you are.”
Pressed the heels of my palms to my eyelids. Hard. Trying to stop the burn there.
“I’m about to join you if this goes sideways. And it’s definitely going sideways.”
Found his wrist, checking pulse. Fingers wrapped around it, thumb on the point. Steady. Strong. Fighter’s pulse.
Didn’t let go.
Something in my chest settled having that contact. Proof of life. Proof I hadn’t lost yet. Proof I hadn’t killed him yet.
My head dropped to the mattress edge, grip still holding his wrist. Half-asleep, half-aware, caught in that twilight state where everything felt distant. Where the fear couldn’t quite reach me.
Still tracking his breathing in the quiet. The rhythm of it steady as a metronome. Snow tapping on windows. Wind howling through gaps in the building. Everything settling into temporary peace.
First time since finding him I felt something like calm. The storm’s eye, a brief respite before chaos returned.
Safe in this moment.
“This won’t last.” Murmured into half-sleep. “Never does.”
Even half-unconscious, awareness remained on him. His wrist in mine. His heartbeat. His presence filling my small apartment.
Not alone.
Hadn’t felt not-alone in a long time.
Then... fingers tightened around mine.
Not unconscious fumbling. Deliberate. Intentional.
Thumb brushed across my knuckles, questioning, testing, a conscious touch that made my pulse skip.
