Small, cool hands frame my cheeks. “Hush. Of course. You’re family. I’ve gotta get back upstairs, but I’m a phone call away, okay?”
I nod, not trusting my voice.Family.
When she slips away, Ames’s dad surprises me with a brief, hard hug, though Grant’s not usually a demonstrative man. Beckett, Ames’s eldest sibling, does too. True—the middle Axford—stays silent, which is his thing, but the look in his eyes is pure empathy. It says he knows what it’s like to feel totally adrift… which is probably accurate.
I take a seat next to Auden, who blinks up at me in surprise and then frowns.
“Um. Are you… okay?” He gives a pointed glance at my hands.
I look down and see that my right hand’s a mess. Singe marks and tiny, bleeding cuts cover me from fingertips to wrist. I can’t imagine how I got them—where the hell are my gloves?—and I don’t really feel them.
“I’m good,” I say. Inside, I add,as long as Ames is.
Minutes crawl by, or maybe hours or years, I have no idea.
Eliza comes back with more vague assurances. Anna texts offering support, and so do Hugh and Delphi.
Someone—Griffin, I think—fetches coffee for everyone, and I drink mine without tasting it.
James calls to say the fire’s finally under control. The structure was a total loss, but they contained it so that it didn’t spread to the surrounding woods. There were no signs of anyone inside the building, thank fuck. He also mentions that Greene’s here at the hospital with a badly bruised femur, but his family’s with him and sending James updates.
I nod along and give what I hope are appropriate responses, but I feel like my mind’s disconnected from my body. Like I’m Dr. Colburn’s cat clock, tick-schlockingalong again, out of step with the rest of the world.
Then a doctor finally appears. “Who’s here for Ames Axford?”
A dozen heads swing in her direction.
“Wow. Okay. All of you. Well, he’s stable,” she says, and the whole room lets out a breath. “Took a while because we were doing a concussion protocol and a CT. But the good news is, the CT scan came back clear, and he has no internal injuries. He has a fractured collarbone and a concussion, though, so we’ll keep him under observation for at least twenty-four hours.”
“Is he awake?” Vivian rises to her feet. “Can we see him?”
The doctor nods. “He needs rest, so no more than two visitors right now.” She hesitates. “He’s asking for someone named Robbie?”
Everyone looks at me, but Vivian nods like it’s entirely unexceptional. “Come on, Rob, sweetheart. You and I will go.”
We follow her through the big doors, past a nurse’s desk, through a rabbit warren of hallways. My heart’s pounding so hard I swear the doctors could monitor it without equipment.
Finally, she stops outside a curtained alcove. “He’s on some pain meds, and they’re making him tired,” she warns. “Don’t be alarmed if he falls asleep on you.” She opens the curtain a few feet. “Mrs. Axford, I had a couple quick questions about your son’s medical history, if you don’t mind?”
Vivian hangs back to talk to her while I hurry through the curtain.
Ames is propped up in the hospital bed, looking unnaturally pale against the white sheets. His arm’s strapped tohis chest, he’s hooked up to a billion monitors, and he looks exhausted, but his gorgeous blue eyes are open. And when he sees me, they light up.
“Hi, there,” he says with a dreamy sigh.
I run a hand over my forehead and let out this sound that’s halfway between a hiccup and a laugh. Relief crashes through me like a tidal wave.
“Amesie.” I can’t stop my face from breaking into a huge smile, and I duck my head to wipe my eyes on the shoulder of my T-shirt. “You asshole. You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry.” His eyes shut for a second, and he tries to hold up the arm that has the IV in it, then grimaces in discomfort. “Scared the shit outta me too.”
“I bet.” I rush forward to guide his hand back down onto his pillows… and I don’t let go, keeping my hand on him if only to convince myself he’s actually here and safe. “How are you feeling?” I demand.
“Like a wall fell on me?” Ames snickers tiredly at his own joke. His eyes open a little more, and he scans me up and down. “You’re okay?”
I’m perfect, I want to say. Time’s restarted itself now. I’m back in my body.
“Yeah.” My throat’s tight. “I’m good.”
