Sloane saw it hit her in real time—the disbelief, then the slow dawning of betrayal.
“She said what?” Catherine’s voice sharpened, barely above a whisper.
Sloane nodded, voice lower now. “She said you made it clear that if I cared about your recovery, I’d stay away.”
“I didn’t…” Catherine pressed her hands to her face, then dragged them down slowly. “I didn’t even know you’d tried.”
“I did,” Sloane whispered. “And when she said that, god, Catherine, I believed her. Because you’re so good at pushing me away, I thought maybe this time, you meant it.”
Catherine looked like she’d been physically struck. “I didn’t. I don’t.”
“I know that now,” Sloane said softly. “But I didn’t then.”
She reached forward, fingers curling around Catherine’s.
It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t a movie moment. But it was honest, and it mattered.
“I needed you,” Catherine admitted. “And when you didn’t come, it broke something in me.”
Sloane squeezed her hand.
“And when I found out you were hurt and I wasn’t there…” Sloane’s voice cracked. “That broke something in me too.”
Catherine’s lashes fluttered. Her gaze drifted to their hands. Her thumb moved, stroking lightly along the back of Sloane’s.
They didn’t say I’m sorry. They didn’t cry. Not here, not yet.
But the space between them was smaller and the ache a little quieter.
And for the first time in weeks, Sloane felt like they might still have something worth fighting for.
They didn’t rush into an apology or explanations. It was like both of them knew that too many things had been left unspoken for too long, and that now, silence would only steal more from them.
Sloane sat beside the hospital bed, one hand cradling Catherine’s and the other resting in her lap. Catherine's face was pale and thinner than she remembered, her hair tucked behind her ear with none of its usual harsh elegance.“I thought I’d never see you again,” Catherine said, her voice rough from both the intubation and the weight of the days passed. “I thought I ruined everything.”
“You didn’t.” Sloane’s thumb grazed her knuckles. “You tried to protect yourself. I get it now. But, Catherine, you scared me. And when your mother came to me, I believed her because part of me was already convinced I’d pushed too hard.”
Catherine’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t you call?”
“She told me you didn’t want to see me.” Sloane’s voice cracked. “She looked me in the eye and said you’d made your choice. And after everything, I believed her.”
Catherine blinked. “I didn’t even know She took that from us.”
Sloane nodded, her lips pressed tightly. “And I let her. That’s on me.”
Catherine shook her head, gripping her hand. “It’s not. I froze again and panicked. But when I woke up and you weren’t there, I thought I’d lost you. For real this time.”
“You almost did.” Sloane’s voice was quiet, almost too gentle. “I was preparing myself to walk away.”
Silence hung between them, heavy and brimming with all they’d both held back. Then Catherine took a long, slow breath and said, “I don’t want to live like that anymore. I don’t want to protect myself from the very thing I need.”
Sloane tilted her head, unsure. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want you,” Catherine whispered. “And not in the way I used to want things, not because you fit in a box I can understand. Because you don’t. And that’s why I love you.”
Sloane blinked, the words echoing inside her like thunder. “Say that again.”
“I love you.” Catherine’s eyes didn’t waver. “I love you, and I don’t want to spend one more day pretending I’m not terrified. But I’m more terrified of losing you.”
