She couldn’t think matrimonial right now. Today was about survival, not planning a future together. They’d get through this one day at a time, and then they’d start talking about the two children with Brayden’s thick brown hair and her green eyes, the weekend backpacking trips they’d take once he retired, and the evenings they’d spend in one another’s arms. They’d talked about it plenty before, about how they were going to move into her house—not his—once they tied the knot, because he said her house felt more like a home that his. It was true. But then, he was out of town so much, his place only had the bare necessities. She was home in the evenings and had decorated with soft textures and bright colors.
She pulled into the parking lot and hurried through the doors, loading into the elevator with a family sporting pink flowers and smiles and a bag with pink tissue paper poking out the top. She turned away. Those types of dreams would have to wait too.
The doors opened and she made her way out. There was a woman at the nurses’ station, with shiny black hair, who looked slightly familiar. She wore tight scrubs and a lot of makeup.
Tilly ran her hand over her dreads. Her hair was clean, but the stitches prevented her from doing anything cute with it. They hung around her, limp and smelling of mint shampoo. She hadn’t done more than swipe on mascara. The bruising on her face was still too dark to cover. Any attempts made her look like a leper about to lose patches of skin. Any time she’d felt like complaining, all she had to do was think of Brayden and all that he had lost, and her personal pity faded to the background.
The door to Brayden’s room stood open. She shook her head, wondering if the news of Brayden’s accident had hit the local stations yet. If so, they should be better about security.
Tilly walked in, and stopped dead at the sight of Brayden wearing a neck brace. His large body took up the whole bed, his toes poking over the bottom edge. He was beautiful and broken, and her heart spilled open with anguish and love for this man. Her throat closed off and her eyes leaked. She gasped for a breath, drawing his attention.
“Tilly, baby. Don’t cry.” He lifted his arm in a strangely stiff move, waving her closer.
She sat on the edge of the bed and groped for his hand. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” She kissed his hand, her tears tasting salty. “I wish I could hug you.”
“Hey. Hey.” He hooked his finger under her chin and lifter her face until their eyes met.
She fell into those eyes, like she had no control over her body or her mind when he looked at her that way. She didn’t even care, hadn’t once cared that he could grab control of her in such a way, because she’d trusted him with her heart and soul. The connection they shared wasn’t the kind of crush she’d had on other men, or a passing attraction. It was the real deal, and she was powerless to fight it. Not that she would.
“Hey.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “My lips work fine.”
She laughed through her tears. Trust him to want to make out with a neck brace on. Her body hunched over itself as she drew in a few deep breaths. Cupping his cheeks as best she could, she swore softly. “You make that brace look so good.”
He chuckled, and she took courage from the fact that there wasn’t any evidence of pain on his face. She leaned in with practiced precision. If there was one thing they were accomplished in, it was kissing.
When their lips met, a healing balm spread throughout her body. She prayed he felt it too, felt the strength they had when they were together, felt the love that flowed so easily from the depths of her being. She truly believed that she had loved him before she knew him and that their coming together was a completion of one of God’s greatest miracles.
He moaned softly, and she pulled back. “No. Don’t.” His hand slid to her side, and he prodded her back to his lips. She went willingly, happy to give whatever he needed and getting so much more in return.
Her tears dried, and the kiss became heated. Needy. She checked herself, not wanting to hurt him. When she pulled back, they were both gasping for breath. She splayed her hands on his chest, needing to feel his heartbeat beneath her skin. The rough hospital gown reminded her that they were not completely alone and the door was open. Hopefully there weren’t any families wandering the hallway.
His brown eyes ran over her black eye, her cracked lip, and her bandaged forehead. “Are you okay?” His fingers traced her bruise so lightly she hardly felt it.
“I will be.” She gulped. “What about you?” She ran her hands sideways, towards his shoulders and then down his arms, where she took his hands in hers and held them to her stomach.
“I broke my neck.” He continued to explain the metal rods in place that wouldn’t go away. The fact that he couldn’t lift his arms or rotate his head even without the brace. His voice grew hoarse, his sentences halting. He used big medical words with Latin origins and five to six syllables. All the while, she watched him sink into himself, the light in his eyes dulling to storm-cloud gray. “They said I can go home in a couple days.”
She cursed under her breath, the tears welling up once again. Brayden called her his desert gypsy, said she belonged out there like a blooming cactus. She certainly had a well of water in her today. “It’s my fault, Brayd. I shouldn’t have—”
His grip tightened. “No one blames you.”
She rounded over their hands and whispered the truth. “I do.”
“Babe—”
“You can’t upset the patient. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Tilly turned to find the nurse with the long black hair standing in the doorway. Her eyes were hard and her shoulders back, thrusting her tiny chest forward.
Tilly sniffed, swallowing against the block in her throat that made it hard to speak. “I didn’t—”
“The monitors told me all I need to know.” She stepped into the room and turned off a blinking red light.
Tilly glanced at Brayden. His face was contorted in pain, though she didn’t know if it was emotional or physical pain that put the look there. “Brayden?” She stood, wanting to give him room and wrap him in her arms at the same time.
She wrung her hands with indecision. Her gut told her to cling to him; the beeping monitors said she was a danger to his well-being.
“I—” Brayden started.
