"What if it is?" She pulled me into another hug. "You won't know unless you stay."
She was right. I knew she was right. But the fear was clawing at me, coiling around my chest, whispering that I'd already losthim, that the man who wakes up might wear his face but have none of his memories.
And yet.
I closed my eyes and let myself remember this morning. The golden light through the kitchen window. The way he'd complained about his physical therapy exercises while doing them anyway, because I'd asked him to. The way he steadied himself as much as he could for simply wiping flour off my nose.
"I want more of that," I whispered.
"What?"
"Mornings. Burnt toast. Arguments about whose turn it is to wash dishes." I opened my eyes. "I want fifty years of ordinary days with him. And I'm terrified I won't get any of it."
Beth was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, "That's not fear talking, Charlie. That's love."
Maybe it was both. Maybe love and fear were two sides of the same coin; you couldn't have one without the other. Miles had tried to protect me from this, tried to push me away so I'd never have to sit in this waiting room with my heart in pieces. But I was here anyway. Because loving someone meant accepting the risk of losing them.
It meant choosing them anyway.
I stood up, my legs steadier than I expected. "I need coffee."
"I'll get it." Beth was already moving toward the vending machine.
"Beth." She turned as I spoke. "Thank you. For being here."
"Where else would I be?" She smiled, tired, sad, and real. "You're my person. Your crisis is my crisis."
While she wrestled with the vending machine, I walked to the window. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. Beautiful. A stark contrast to the chaos inside these walls.
Come back to me,I thought, sending it out towards the ICU, towards the room where machines were monitoring his heartbeat and strangers were fighting for his fate.I'm not done loving you yet. I'm not even close to done.
I pressed my palm against the cold glass and made him a promise he couldn't hear.
I'm going to be here when you wake up. And if you don't remember me, I'll help you remember. I'll tell you about our oak tree, the burnt eggs, and the way you kissed me in that ridiculous kitchen. I'll tell you everything, as many times as it takes. Because I love you, Miles Cameron. And I don't want to give up on you.
Behind me, the waiting room door opened.
"Ms. Huston?"
I turned. A nurse stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
"He's awake. He's asking for you."
My heart stopped. Then started again, racing.
14.Miles
The first thing I remembered was her laugh.
Not the accident. Not the impact. Not the sirens or the surgery or the two days I'd apparently lost to medically induced unconsciousness. Just Charlotte's laugh, bright and teasing, echoing through the fog like a beacon calling me home.
"Mr. Cameron? Can you hear me?"
I forced my eyes open. White ceiling. Fluorescent lights. A face I didn't recognize was hovering above me, male, middle-aged, wearing the carefully neutral expression of someone trained to deliver bad news.
"There he is." The doctor smiled slightly. "Welcome back. I'm Dr. Okonkwo. How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck," I managed, my voice coming out like gravel scraped over sandpaper.
