The doctor slips back through the double doors, and everyone closes ranks around me. Parker holds onto Isabel, tears in both women’s eyes. Emi dabs at her cheeks with a tissue and leans against Jasper. Connor sinks into the chair and drops his head into his hands. Hardison stays on the fringes, but I don’t think his eyes are completely dry either.
We made it through the first hurdle. The one that Grace had to jump alone. The rest…we’ll figure out together.
The ICU is mostly quiet, a low hum of machines punctuated with the beeping of heart rate monitors. The nurse pulls back a curtain, and there she is.
Grace looks so small against the white sheets. An IV is taped to the back of her hand, and wires seem to protrude from almost everywhere. Her blond hair fans across the pillow, a bandage covering part of her temple. It’s so much smaller than the one she had in Mexico.
Hopefully that means her recovery will be easier. Grace has already carried more than anyone should ever have to. She’s breathing. That should be enough. But, God help me, I need it to be easier this time. She needs it to be easier this time.
“She’s still waking up,” the nurse says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You can hold her hand, but try to let her rest as long as you can, okay? I’ll come check on her every ten or fifteen minutes. But if you need me, you can always press the call button.”
I drop into the chair beside the bed, and gather her fingers in mine. “I’m here, darlin’. The doctor says you’re gonna be okay.”
A hint of pressure against my palm answers me. It’s so weak, I think maybe I imagined it. Until it happens again. “Just rest. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
It takes another twenty minutes before her eyelids flutter. My heart skips a beat, then thuds against my ribs so hard, I suck in a sharp breath. Slowly, her lids part. I only catch a glimpse of her blue-green irises before they close, but she tries again. I’m not sure she can focus, but then relief eases the tiny lines bracing her mouth.
Her lips part, but what slips out is nothing more than a jumble of syllables that don’t fit together. With a frown, she tries again, but it’s no better, and a tear slips down her cheek.
My chest caves in, like someone kicked me hard enough to break my sternum. I want to jump up and scream for the nurse, but…we knew this was a possibility. Don’t mean either of us were prepared for it, though.
“It’s okay, Grace. This…it’s all normal,” I manage, my voice barely steady, then reach for the call button.
Nothin’ about this is normal. I don’t care what the doctor says. My wife went through those doors able to walk and talk and love. Now…I don’t know if she can do any of those things. For all I know, she doesn’t even remember me. Without her words, how can I tell?
Fear claws at my throat. Rage at the complete unfairness of all of this burns through me. What if this doesn’t get better? She’s been through so much already—clawed her way back from hell, pieced herself together again from nothin’—and now this?
Fuck.
Words or no words, she’s still Grace. Still mine. And I’ll spend the rest of my life—every breath, every touch, every heartbeat—showing her I’ll never stop loving her. She could lose every word she’s ever known, and she’ll still have me. Always.
The door opens with a whisper, and the nurse steps in with a serene smile. “You doin’ all right, hon?”
“She can’t—” My voice breaks. “She…she tried to talk, but it’s just…sounds. She can’t…can’t get the words out.”
Grace blinks back her tears, and another weak mumble escapes her lips.
The nurse pats Grace’s shoulder lightly, her gaze softening. “That’s okay, hon. It’s common. Really. Especially after the type of surgery you had. I’ll page the doctor, though. She’ll come talk you through what’s happening, okay?”
The sharp edge of my panic eases just enough for me to take a breath. I scoot closer, lifting Grace’s hand gently and pressing her fingers to my chest, right over my heart.
“I love you, darlin’. Always. Words or no words, it don’t matter. You hear me?”
Her tears haven’t stopped, but she curls her fingers against my shirt. She’s here. She’s alive. And she knows how much I love her. For now…that’s enough. It has to be enough.
Grace
The fog pressing against my skull won’t clear. But AJ holds my hand to his chest, and the steady beat of his heart under my palm is my anchor in this storm.
If I had the strength, I’d try to speak again. But I’m so tired. A little dizzy. And a lot scared. I want to tell him I remember. Not our lives before. But the past two weeks. Or…at least the important bits.
Belle.
Spending nights curled up on the couch watching movies with popcorn so salty and buttery, it was like heaven in a bowl.
Sharing my coffee with him.
Making love last night, his arm around my waist and his lips pressed to my ear.
