“I’ll be there when you wake up,” he says simply, like it's the easiest promise in the world. “Pass the phone back to Noah.”
I sniffle and do as he says, refusing to meet my brother’s knowing look. Noah listens for another minute, nods, then hangs up and wraps an arm around my shoulder in that quiet, big brother way that saysI’ve got you. I let myself lean into him, and he gives my shoulder a firm squeeze—steady and sure, like he's grounding me when everything else feels like it's spinning out of control.
Drifting in and out of consciousness after anesthesia feels like drowning in slow motion.
I know I’m talking, answering questions. I hear the voices of those around me, but none of their words make sense. I can’t keep my eyes open. The pressure on my chest builds and builds until panic overtakes me. I can’t breathe.
The warmth of a calloused hand against my cheek pulls me in, grounding me.
“Easy, Kates. You’re okay, baby. Just breathe.”
That voice. His voice. Silas is here.
He eases my head back against the scratchy pillow and keeps talking, his tone soft and sure. “That’s my girl. Deep breaths. You did so good. Dr. Bradley said everything went perfect. You’ll be back up and running in no time.”
The edges of the world start to blur again, and this time, I let them, because Silas is here. And with him, the darkness doesn’t feel so heavy.
The next time I wake, the world is too bright and my ankle feels like it’s on fire. It isn’t a sharp pain. Just a deep, relentless throb that won’t let me forget there’s metal holding me together.
Silas is at my side before I can blink, one big hand at the back of my neck and the other steadying the ice pack on my foot. “Hey, Katibug,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. “How’s the pain?”
“Manageable,” I lie.
His eyebrow lifts. “Try again.”
“Like someone jammed a construction screw into my bone,” I admit, exhaling through my nose. “Which, technically, they did.”
That earns a quiet laugh, the kind that makes my chest ache worse than my ankle.
“How’s our star patient feeling?” Dr. Bradley’s voice cuts through the haze, cheerful but not obnoxious.
I blink until the blur fades and find Silas beside me, his big hand wrapped around mine. He squeezes gently.
“Fuzzy and numb,” I mumble. “And a little fiery.”
“Completely normal.” The doctor grins, tapping my toes with a capped pen. I jerk them away with a wince.
“Reactive, good. Okay, quick rundown of dos and don’ts before the nurse brings your discharge paperwork.”
He runs through the usual spiel—keep it elevated, ice twenty minutes on and off, wiggle toes, do the stretches, milk it for all it’s worth.
“Make the big guy cater to your every need,” he adds, grinning over the clipboard.
I feel my cheeks go up in flames. Silas’s thumb traces slow circles over the back of my hand, and I can’t bring myself to look at him.
“Got it,” Silas says smoothly. “Between me, her brother, Mom, and Rooks, we’ll make sure she behaves. What are the don’ts?”
“No weight-bearing immediately, no getting the incision wet or dirty, and no driving until I clear you. I’ll give you a prescription for pain medication, but I think you’ll do fine alternating ibuprofen and acetaminophen.”
Silas’s fingers slide into my hair, careful not to snag on tangles. “When’s her follow-up?”
“Two weeks unless something feels off. I already looped in Liam from Voltage’s staff to keep an eye out if you need backup.” He pats my uninjured leg. “Take it slow, Oakley. We’ll have you back on your feet in no time.”
When he leaves, the room goes quiet except for the steady rhythm of Silas’s breathing beside me. The drugs still hum through my veins, but I let myself sink into the warmth of his hand. For the first time in a long time, I’m not facing it alone.
Chapter 25
Silas
