I tried to laugh. It turned into a cough—deep and wracking. Brian was immediately there with water, guiding the straw to my lips with bandaged hands.
"Small sips. Easy."
I drank. Lukewarm, tasting of plastic. The best thing I'd ever had.
When I caught my breath, I reached up and touched the gauze on his hand.
"You're hurt."
"Minor."
"Brian." I gave him the look I reserved for patients who minimized symptoms. "I'm a doctor."
"Okay, maybe not minor." He caught my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. "But I'll heal. And right now, none of that matters." His eyes held mine. "You scared the hell out of me, Ava."
"You ran into a burning building for me."
"You walked into a trap set by a psychopath." His jaw tightened. "I think we're even."
We weren't. But I didn't have the strength to argue.
"I shouldn't have left."
The words had been building since I woke up. Maybe longer. Maybe since I left. Now, in the quiet of the hospital room, they finally found their way out.
Brian's thumb traced slow circles on the back of my hand.
"No," he said. "You shouldn't have."
"I thought I could protect you?—"
"I know." His hand tightened on mine. "I understand why. But Ava—that's not how this works. That's not how we work."
"I know."
"We protect each other. That's the deal. You don't get to make sacrifices for me without me having a say." His voice cracked slightly. "You don't get to take yourself away from me to keep me safe."
"I know." My voice cracked, too. "I was scared. I saw you in that hospital bed, beaten because of me, and I couldn't—I couldn't bear the thought of it happening again. Of something worse happening. What if next time I couldn't save you? What if next time—" My throat closed around the words. "I'm a doctor, Brian. I know exactly how badly a body can break. I know what it looks like when someone doesn't come back. And I couldn't be the reason that happened to you."
Brian was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was rough. "It doesn't matter."
"What?"
"Whether I got hurt. Whether I didn’t come back." He said it like it was simple. "None of that matters, Ava. Because when you left—when I woke up and you were gone—something in me died anyway."
I stared at him.
"I might as well have been dead," he continued. "Walking around, going through the motions, but there was nothing left. Just this empty space where you used to be." He shook his head. "So if you left to keep me safe, to keep me alive—it didn't work. You took everything that mattered when you walked out that door."
I searched for words.
"Brian." I took a shaky breath. "I left because I love you. Because I couldn't stand the thought of you getting hurt again because of me."
"And I'm telling you that a life where I'm safe but you're gone isn't a life worth living." He shifted closer. "So if you're going to make decisions about my safety, you need to factor that in. Keeping me away from danger doesn't keep me alive. Not if it means losing you."
"That's incredibly selfish."
"It is."
