He laughs. It’s such a warm sound, like a crackling fireplace, and somehow, that warmth finds its way into my bloodstream. He’s always been an antidote for the cold.
Quin brushes some snow off a log and motions for me to sit down. He reaches into the backpack he brought and pulls out a thermos and two insulated mugs.
I shiver, sitting down beside him. "I'm kind of hoping that's alcohol."
“I’m so sorry to disappoint you.” Quin grins, pouring me a cup. “But it’s hot chocolate.”
“That’s too bad. I could go for an Irish coffee,” I say with a disarming smile, playfully nudging him. I take the mug and relish in the steam fanning against my face. “Mmm, thank you.”
We sip in silence, both staring into the breathtaking view. After a few minutes, Quin breaks the silence, saying, "I think it's my mum's fault I'm so drawn to the cold. My nanny was Nordic, and she taught my mum the benefits of letting babies nap outdoors."
I raise an eyebrow. "Napping outdoors? In the cold?"
Quin nods, smiling fondly. "It's good for building up a child’s immune system.”
I take a sip of the hot chocolate. “Ah, well, that explains everything then,” I say in a joking tone. “Maybe if my parents made me nap outside as a baby, I wouldn’t have all these health issues.”
The playfulness in Quin’s eyes waver. “Emery?—”
“I’m kidding,” I say, waving him off. “Don’t give me that concerned doctor look. It’s a joke, Quin. You’re supposed to laugh.”
His piercing gaze flits around my face. “How does the new medicine make you feel?”
“Fine,” I shrug, shoulders tense as I avert my gaze. “I can’t really feel much of a difference.”
Quin notices my sharp tone and the change in my body language. Of course, he does. Classic Quin. His brow furrows. "The topic of your health makes you uncomfortable."
"How very observant, Doctor. Any other insights?" I retort, hating myself for being so combative.
Quin sets his mug to the side, his features soft, gentle, as he reaches for my glove-covered hands. "I don't see you as your disease, Emery. It's just apartof who you are, notwhoyou are. Talking about it doesn’t give it power. In fact, the more you talk about it, the less power it has."
My heart pangs, and I release a long breath. “I don’t remember a time that I wasn’t sick,” I admit. “And usually, if you can’t remember something, you can’t miss it. But…” I swallow, and his grip around my hands tighten. “But I miss it. I miss being… I don’t want to say healthy, but maybe, maybe ignorant?”
Quin sidles closer to me, his arms acting like the safest of cages. He presses his warm lips against my temple, and I close my eyes under his tender touch. “I know you don’t believe me, Emery, but I promise, you have a long, wonderful life ahead of you,” he whispers against my skin. “I just need you to believe it too.”
“You shouldn’t make those types of promises, Quin,” I say, tears welling up as I keep my eyes shut. “There’s no way you can guarantee?—”
“Can you do something for me, Emery?” he interrupts, rubbing my arm up and down, his voice smooth and calm and comforting. “I need you to imagine yourself fifty years in the future.”
I frown, and he reins in a small laugh.
“Just try it, darling. Humor me.”
I suck in a deep breath and listen to the sound of his voice.
“You’re almost eighty years old. Your hair is white or gray or shades of both. Your eyes are a little cloudy, you’ve got lines upon lines of wrinkles gracing your gorgeous face. You’re sitting on a porch overlooking a lake. The air is crisp, and you’re bundled up in a cozy blanket. You take a sip of hot tea,and you’re surrounded by the warmth of family—maybe even children, grandchildren, friends. You’re surrounded by love.”
My breath hitches, and I open my eyes to find his gaze unwaveringly fixed on me.
“Now,” he continues softly, “imagine looking back at the life you’ve lived. The challenges, the triumphs, the pain. And in that moment, Emery, do you regret having lived those fifty years?”
I shake my head, a tear escaping despite my efforts to hold them back. “No, of course not.”
Quin wipes away the tear with his thumb. “Life is uncertain for all of us, Emery. But I want you to hold onto the possibility that those fifty yearswillcome, and I promise—you won’t face them alone. And you certainly will not regret trying. You will not regret having hope.”
I have no words. Nothing slips past my lips other than soft, whimpering sobs. Quin pulls me into a gentle embrace, and I let the tears fall so freely that I fear they may drown me.
“I never let myself cry until I met you,” I whisper into the crook of his neck, voice croaky and raw. “You broke me, Quin. I don’t know what you did, but you broke me.”
