I’m supposed to be this strong, tough biker. I don’t mean for it to happen. I’m not a crier. But something about Marley being here, her hand warm and solid over mine, her presence filling the empty spaces… it completely shatters me.
A sob tears out of my damaged throat, raw and ugly, and then I lean forward, my forehead pressing against our joined hands on the bed rail. My shoulders shake. My breath comes in ragged gasps that hurt my smoke-damaged lungs.
And Marley doesn’t flinch.
She doesn’t tell me it’ll be okay or offer empty platitudes. She holds my hand tighter and lets me fall apart.
“I almost lost her,” I choke out between sobs. “The building was collapsing, and I thought… I thought I was too late.”
“But you weren’t.” Her free hand moves to my back, rubbing slow circles. “You got her out, Nitro. You saved her.”
“She can’t breathe on her own. The pneumonia—”
“She’s a fighter. Anyone who raised you would have to be.”
Despite everything, a broken laugh escapes me. I lift my head, swiping roughly at my face. My eyes are swollen, my face probably a disaster, but Marley looks at me with so much compassion it makes my chest ache.
“I’m sorry,” I rasp. “For everything. For lying to you about—”
“Stop.” She squeezes my hand. “That doesn’t matter right now. None of it matters except Queenie getting better and you taking care of yourself.”
“I can’t leave her.”
“I know. I’m not asking you to.” She glances at Queenie, her expression soft. “Tell me about her, about your lives growing up?”
A slow smile crosses my lips, and I gently nod. I tell her about how she’d sit with me for hours while I practiced my flute, never complaining even when I hit the same wrong note fifty times in a row. How she taught me to cook, to be kind, to understand that strength isn’t about how hard you can hit but about how much you can endure and still choose love.
Marley listens to every word, her thumb tracing patterns on the back of my hand.
“That sounds amazing,” she says when I finish.
“It was. She’s the best person I k-know.” My voice breaks again. “She can’t die, Marley. She just can’t.”
“Then we’ll believe she won’t.” She leans her head against my shoulder. “We’ll sit here and believe it together.”
Time passes.
I don’t know how much.
A nurse comes in to check vitals, adjust Queenie’s IV, remove mine, and make notes in the chart. She doesn’t ask Marley to leave, probably because we must look like exactly what we are, two people clinging to each other in a crisis.
Eventually, my breathing steadies. The panic that’s been clawing at my chest since the fire loosens its grip.
Just a fraction.
Then the door opens again, and I turn to see Sage popping her head through the opening. I widen my eyes in awe that she is here while she looks at me with a warm smile. “Hey, big man, I came here with Marls, just wanted to check in on you both. Make sure you weren’t either ripping each other’s hair out or clothes off… though, I was kinda hoping I would walk in on the latter.”
Somehow, I snort out a laugh. “Thanks for being here, Sage. I really do appreciate the support.”
She smiles at me again. “Hey… that’s me, the sarcastic support. But also, there are so many hot bikers out in that waiting room, so I am not complaining…at all!”
Marley grins at her. “A lot of them are single, you know?” She waggles her brows at her bestie.
Sage’s face lights up with mischievousness. “Oh, I know. I’ve already been doing the rounds, askingallthe questions. Ghost is such a hard one to crack, though. I have everyone out there laughing except for him. But don’t worry, I’ll wear him down.”
I let out a heavy exhale. “I bet you will.”
“Okay, I’ll leave you guys be. But I’m just out here with all the muscles, tattoos, and beards that I keep imagining rubbing between my thighs if you need me.”
