“I know, and I’m here, okay? We’ll get through this together,” I assure her.
“Love you, Ollie.”
“Love you, too, Morgy. We’ll talk soon. Hang in there.”
“Bye,” she says, and we hang up, leaving me staring at my phone.
I need to be there for her, just like she’s always been there for me.
I make a mental note to talk to Misha as soon as he’s awake so he can help me convince Grey that Morgan should talk with Grandpa. We need to act, not just for Grandpa’s safety but also for Grey’s peace of mind.
Misha shifts in his chair beside me, his head lolling slightly to the side. I reach out and nudge him but he doesn’t wake, mumbling something incoherent. A low grunt escapes him as he finds a new position.
I should probably try to wake him and make him go to bed. His tendency to fall asleep in less-than-ideal places is going to wreak havoc on his back eventually, but it’s hard to wake him up when he’s like this.
And I sure as fuck won’t carry him to bed.
As I sit and turn back to the monitors, the memory of Amelia in my arms washes over me, potent and sweet.
I would carryherto bed every night for the rest of my life if she’d let me.
The way she nestled against me, her breath warm on my skin, makes my heart race even now. Her grip tightened on me, asilent plea not to let go even as I laid her on her bed. I lingered longer than necessary, breathing in her scent, which clings to my memory.
Her fragrance is intoxicating, like a gentle, sweet lavender breeze.
My favorite.
I use lavender spray on my pillow each night to ease my mind into sleep.
Perhaps I was too bold when I tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, my fingers tracing the soft curve of her cheek, mapping the constellation of freckles. She wrinkled her nose in that adorable way she has, but her sigh of contentment as I whispered goodnight left a lingering ache in my chest.
For a fleeting moment, I imagined climbing into bed beside her, drawing her close, and falling asleep with her in my arms—a dream that’s haunted me for longer than I care to admit.
It felt so possible then, so within reach.
But it’s not.
I’m struck once more by the distance between us—not just the physical space but the expanse of unspoken words and unshared feelings. It’s a chasm filled with what-ifs and maybes, and I’m standing on the edge, wondering if I’ll ever have the courage to bridge it.
No, not if.When.
I promised myself I wouldn’t let her slip into her loneliness again.
Her laughter cuts through my internal turmoil like a bright light. It pulls me back to reality, to what I’m here to do—what I’m supposed to be doing.
Monitoring the beta. Not fantasizing about her.
“So, how do you handle stress then if you’re so much better at it?” she asks Jamie, her tone light but laced with a hint of genuine curiosity.
She’s stressed? Fuck, what did I miss?
“Does not compute… just kidding! I suggest deep neural relaxation, also known as rebooting. But for humans, I hear meditation is less drastic,” Jamie responds, his voice programmed to mimic lightheartedness.
Amelia bursts into laughter, the sound so clear and infectious that I can’t help but grin despite myself.
God, Misha, that was cringe.
“What if I’m bad at meditation?” Amelia counters, sinking further into her couch, her body language relaxed and open.
