Whatever tension is left in my body loosens when she stops short and sees my eyes open. One hand flies to her mouth, the other bunching at her scrubs.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she sighs, crossing the room in three quick steps.
“Hey, Mom.”
She sits on the edge of the bed and cups my cheeks, her thumbs warm against my skin as her eyes search mine. My heart pounds too hard, my chest rattles when I breathe, but I manage a weak, crooked smile.
“You scared me,” she whispers.
A tear slips down my cheek. “I know,” I murmur.
She explains everything then. I don’t interrupt, just listen as the throbbing in my head deepens with each word. By the time she finishes, I’m exhausted, like there’s nothing left to give. My chest feels too tight for everything I’m holding—relief tangled with anger, sadness seeping into gratitude.
I blow out a long breath.
“So, one would say I’m lucky?”
Hunter chuckles beside me, the tension in his shoulders easing with every second I keep my eyes open.
“You are so incredibly lucky, my sweet girl,” Mom says. “But you have a long recovery ahead of you. The doctor will be in shortly. Anything you need, you ask this one here.” She tips her chin toward Hunter. “The only time he’s left your side is when I forced him to.”
Looking at Hunter, I notice the dark shadows under his eyes for the first time. The way his hand grips mine, like he’s afraid that if he lets go, I’ll disappear. With the small amount of strength I have in me, I squeeze his hand back, letting him know I’m here.
Mom clears her throat, and when I look back, her eyes are shining. She reaches up, smoothing my hair away from my face—the way she’s done my whole life. After bad dreams, scraped knees, and heartbreaks she couldn’t fix. That gesture cracks open something inside me, and I sniffle, my breath catching in my burning lungs before a cough tears free.
Hunter straightens immediately, hesitation flickering across his face.
“She’s okay. She just needs a minute. This is a lot to wake up to.”
Hunter’s thumb brushes over my knuckles. Tears fall despite my effort to stop them, and a heavy weight settles over my chest.
“It’s okay,” Mom says, her voice gentle and steady. “You don’t have to be brave with us. You can fall apart. We’ll hold you through it.”
And I do.
The tears come quietly and uncontrollably. She wipes them away with her thumb, while Hunter leans closer, stroking my arm.
“I’m not going anywhere. You can go back to sleep if you need,” he murmurs.
I don’t know how long I hold on while the emotions move through me. Eventually, my eyes grow too heavy to fight.
When they close, all I see is Hunter.
His wide eyes.
His hand stretched toward me.
The split second when his heart breaks because he can’t reach me in time.
My eyes flutter open again. The room is still dim, the beeping less intrusive now. My head aches, but it’s no longer screaming.
“Oh my god,” Tessa whispers. “He wasn’t lying. You are awake.”
I smile at the sound of her voice and turn my head, finding her and Halle sitting side by side. My gaze drifts around the room, and panic sparks in my chest when I don’t see him.
“Where’s Hunter?” My voice cracks around his name.
Halle’s eyes soften as she stands, reaching for the cup on the table. She presses it into my hand, and I take a careful sip. The cold from the ice chips soothes my throat, my lungs.
