The door opens and closes.
Dad clears his throat. “Zac, son?—”
I shake my head.
“I need some time, Dad.” My voice breaks. “Please. Just give me some time.”
He sighs, and I know without opening my eyes that he and Mum are having a conversation of meaningful looks. “Okay, we’ll go home and let Milly know you’re awake. We’ll bring her back to see you later. Noah, do you need a lift?”
“No,” I rush out, my eyes snapping to him as I cling to his hand. “Stay. Please?”
He glances at my parents before nodding. “I can stay.”
Mum and Dad both kiss the top of my forehead before leaving with a promise to be back later.
Once they’re gone, I pat the bed.
“Get up here.”
Noah shakes his head, but I fix him with a glare.
“I almost died, arsehole. Get up here. I need you.”
His face pales. “Don’t fucking joke about that. I fucking thought you’d be dead by the time I got home to you. I’ve never been so terrified in my life.”
“Noah—”
He jerks to his feet, pacing the small space and tugging at his hair. “This has been the worst twelve days, sitting around and waiting for you to wake up, not knowing if there’d be lasting damage. The whole time, all I could think about was, what if you never wake up and I wouldn’t get totell you—” His voice hitches and he stops, dropping his forehead against the wall, his back to me.
My pulse picks up, the damn monitor picking up the change in my heartbeat.
“Noah,” I croak before clearing my throat and trying again. “Noah, please?”
His shoulders slump. “Goddamn it, Kincaid.”
My lips quirk into a smirk, and I pat the bed again.
Heaving a sigh, he crosses the space, and I wince as I make room for him, both of us careful of all the cords and wires connected to me. His familiar scent makes my body relax, and once he’s snuggled into my side, I press my chapped lips to the top of his head and breathe deeply.
“What was it you wanted to tell me?”
“Not here,” he groans.
“What happened in Perth?” I ask instead, brushing my fingers through his hair. “How was your grandad’s birthday?”
Did you talk to your dad?The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t want to put any more pressure on him.
“It was… interesting,” he says, his finger tracing a pattern on my chest. I’m wearing an itchy hospital gown, but I don’t give a shit what I look like. All I care about is that he’s here with me.
“Interesting in what way?” I press when he doesn’t continue.
“Grandad knows.”
My fingers still.
“About us?”
“About me, Nathan, us. Everything.”
