“Whoa, baby. Slow down.” Hunter reaches for my hand.
“Remi, is he… is he okay? He didn’t see me fall, did he?” My voice wobbles.
Halle and Tessa ease back into their spots, the tension draining from their shoulders, and Hunter’s thumb brushes over my knuckles, calming me.
“He didn’t see anything,” Halle says. “Jace grabbed him as soon as it happened and took him to the park. Sarah followed once the ambulance arrived and took him back to Hunter’s. Connor’s been keeping him busy with Ace.”
The tightness in my chest eases, my lungs finally remembering how to work.
“He knows you’re hurt, but not how bad. He keeps asking for you. Says Ace needs to give you a cuddle because he makes everything better.”
“Okay, good.” I smile, my eyelids growing heavy.
“Should we go so you can get some rest?” Tessa asks.
“You would think after all the sleep I’ve had, I wouldn’t be this tired.”
The girls tidy the mess from the muffins, then round the bed, leaning in for quick, careful hugs.
“We love you.”
“Love you too,” I whisper, watching them slip quietly from the room.
“Hunter…”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I’m so tired, but every time I close my eyes, I see it. I’m there, falling all over again. I’m scared.”
He fusses around the bed, then gently slips his arms underneath me, scooting me over a tiny bit. I raise a brow at him, my heart beating faster.
“Do you need anything? Water? More muffin? Want me to grab the doctor for extra pain relief?”
I shake my head, too drained for words.
He pulls my blanket back and slides onto the bed next to me. A grin tugs at my lips.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a nap with my girl. That way, I can protect her in her sleep too,” he says matter-of-factly.
I bury my head in his arm, smiling at his words.
“Your girl?”
His thumb presses under my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.
“Yeah, my girl.”
The machines fade into the background, the world around us blurring as the electricity between us hums. He leans in, pressing his lips to mine softly, and I let myself melt into him.
30
I MIGHT COMBUST
MADISON
I am so ready to go home. It’s been just over two weeks in this sterile, white-walled place, and I’m itching for comfort, for normality. The first week was rough, having to rely on everyone to help me—from eating, to using the bathroom, and showering. My mood swings came fast and hard, and I hated that Hunter and Mom took the brunt of it. Not once did they waver. Not once did they give up or throw in the towel. They were patient when I needed to break down, quick to make me laugh when I hadn’t in days. They carried me through the worst of it, helping me fight my way back. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay them. How I’ll ever repay the doctors, nurses, and physical therapy staff who refused to give up on me, too, even when I wanted to give up on myself.
