"Fifteen minutes. Don't move."
The line went dead. I stared at the phone, then at the empty room, then at the forty-seven tiles between me and the door.
What if I never heard him laugh again?
The thought ambushed me. Not the vague fear of losing him, but the precise, unbearable loss ofthat sound. The low rumble in his voice when something surprised him. The way it built slowly,like he wasn't sure he was allowed to find things funny until he couldn't help himself.
What if I never saw his warm gaze again?
He did that constantly, and was the only one who I felt gazed into my soul every time our eyes met.
What if I never got to kiss him in our kitchen again, tasting flour and coffee and whatever disaster we'd attempted to cook together?
What if I never got to tell him that I'd started thinking of it asourkitchen?
"Charlie."
Beth burst through the door, hair wild, face pale with worry. She crossed the room in three strides and pulled me into her arms.
I broke.
The tears I'd been holding back flooded out, ugly, gasping sobs that shook my whole body. I cried. For the two minutes, his heart had stopped. For every moment we might never have.
"I've got you," Beth murmured, holding me tight. "I've got you."
When the storm finally subsided, she pulled back, hands on my shoulders. "Tell me."
"He was hit by a car." I wiped my face with shaking hands. "We were running by the river. He turned back to tease me about being slow, and he wassmiling, Beth, he was so happy, and then…" A fresh wave of tears threatened. "I couldn't warn him in time."
"This isn't your fault."
"I suggested the run. I picked the route. If I'd just let him stay home?—"
"Charlie." Beth's grip tightened. "Remember what you said after Drew left? That maybe if you'd been different, wanted different things, beenenough?—"
"That's not the same."
"It's exactly the same." Her voice was fierce. "Bad things happening to people you love is not evidence that you're cursed. That driver ran a stop sign. Not you."
"But I could have?—"
"Could have what? Predicted the future? Tackled him out of the way?" She shook her head. "You're a nurse, not a superhero. You did everything right. You stabilized him. You kept him alive until help came. That's not guilt, Charlie. That's love."
I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to.
"The doctor said the head trauma might affect his memory." The words came out small, terrified. "He might wake up and not remember the last few months. Maybe won’t remember us."
Beth was quiet for a moment. "And if he doesn't?"
"Then I've lost him." My voice broke. "Everything we've built, the cooking, the runs, the way he looks at me like I'm worth fighting for, all of it, just gone."
"Or," Beth said slowly, "you help him remember. You tell him your story again. You show him why he fell in love with you the first time." She squeezed my hands. "Charlie, that man loved you even after being away for fifteen years. You think a little memory loss is going to stop him?"
A watery laugh escaped me. "You make it sound simple."
"It's not simple. It's going to be hell." Beth's eyes were bright with unshed tears. "But you love him. And he loves you. And love isn't just the sweet and easy moments. It's this. It's sitting in this awful room under these terrible lights, refusing to leave."
"What if it's not enough?"
