Late that night,the monitors in the room glowed, steady now. The drain from her hip had finally slowed, taped tubing leading to a collection bag hanging discreetly on the far side of the bed. The air was low, cool, and quiet.
Shannon lay half upright, propped on pillows, body sore and spent but calmer. She’d done twenty steps two more times. All in Dante’s arms.
Dante sat in the armchair pulled close to her bedside with his boots off, legs sprawled, still wearing the same soft black shirt he’d slept in the night before.
She hadn’t let go of his hand once. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”
Dante’s eyes met hers in the quiet. “Do you want me to?”
“No,” she said. “That’s why I’m asking.”
He leaned in, lifted her hand, and pressed his lips to her fingers, not rushed, not performative. “I’m here until you tell me to go. And even then, I’ll wait in the hallway.”
Her chest rose and fell. “I feel broken, Dante.”
He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “You’re not.”
Her throat tightened. “I can’t even tie my own shoes.”
“I’ll tie them.”
She blinked fast. “That’s not the point.”
“I know, but it’s mine.” He moved to sit on the edge of her bed, careful of her IV. Of her hip. Of the wires. But not afraid to be close. His hand slid behind her neck. “You fought. You danced with me.”
Her voice cracked. “I don’t know how to stop hearing the rotors. I still hear them. In my sleep.”
He nodded, eyes soft but unwavering. “I hear my last phone call with my dad sometimes. Been a long time.”
Shannon’s eyes flicked to him. “You still hear him?”
“Yeah,” he said. “My dad didn’t share it with us, but he had lung cancer, and nothing was working anymore. I’d just gotten home and was on terminal leave. I was not in a good place. Julian Dupart picked it up. Got me into therapy.
“My dad wanted me to be back to normal then. The day he died, he called to apologize for putting the pressure on. His last words were ‘Sometimes life gets in the way, and you forget what’s important. I don’t say it enough. I love you.’ I hold on to them.
“A short while later, he realized who was stealing and tampering with meds for money. It was an old doc and his wife. He’d been faking dementia. He went to their door, and the old bastard put a shot center mass.”
Dante closed his eyes and sighed. “Shannon, I love you. You wormed your way past all my walls. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I love you too.” Her hand gripped his tighter.
“Tell me what’s haunting you.”
She swallowed. “I never got to say goodbye to Mara.”
Dante pressed his forehead gently to hers. “Then don’t say it yet. And when you’re ready, talk it out with someone.”
The silence wrapped around them like a blanket. He kissed her, slowly and carefully, lips tasting of salt and something fragile, something afraid to be broken again.
He deepened the kiss. It wasn’t lustful. It was a promise.
She whispered, “Can you just stay?”
He nodded. “I’ll stay as long as you need. Longer if you’ll let me.”
She slid her hand into his shirt, against his heart, and closed her eyes. For the first time in seven days, she fell asleep without dreaming of falling.
LOCATION REDACTED – DOD DETENTION BLACK SITE – 0422 ZULU
