I shouldn’t have let her go.
???
Alexis
Everything hurts.
I know I’m being carried. Voices drift in and out, low and steady, but I can’t hold onto the words. The cold fades, replaced by warmth that seeps slowly into my skin, but my body keeps shaking like it hasn’t gotten the message yet.
My eyes are too heavy to open, my limbs too weak to move, and when I try, everything slips away again, pulling me under.
Darkness takes over.
When I finally stir, the world feels softer. Warmer.
The air smells faintly of cedar-wood, sage, and smoke. My head rests against something solid, steady beneath me, and my body is cocooned in blankets, the heat easing some of the ache buried deep in my bones.
“Tinker… stay with me, okay? You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
I recognize that voice, low and steady.
Dex.
It settles into me, anchoring something loose and drifting inside my chest.
I try to open my eyes. Light filters through a window somewhere, blurred and dim, and I blink against it, my lashes heavy. The room comes into focus in pieces, edges soft, everything slightly tilted.
“You’re burning up.”
Something cool presses against my forehead, and I flinch faintly before the relief sinks in. His hand moves with quiet certainty, adjusting the cloth, his other hand steady near my shoulder like he’s making sure I’m still here.
“I had to get you inside,” he says. “You can’t stay out there like that. Why didn’t you tell me you had nowhere to go?”
I want to tell him I’m fine. That I can handle it. That I don’t need anything.
But my throat burns, my body won’t cooperate, and the words don’t come.
So I don’t fight it.
I let him take over.
Time slips in and out. I don’t know how long he stays there, adjusting the blankets, keeping that quiet, steady presence close. Every time I drift too far, his voice pulls me back just enough to keep me from disappearing completely.
“I called Dr. Sloane,” he says after a while, his voice calm, grounded. “He came by, checked you over. Fever and a touch of hypothermia from being out in the cold. Nothing serious, but you need to rest. Three days, at least.”
I blink slowly, trying to follow, but everything feels thick, like I’m moving through water.
A sound reaches me, quiet, almost swallowed by the room.
“I’m sorry.”
My chest tightens.
Did he just…?
The words echo strangely in my head, stretching and shifting until I don’t know if they were real or just something my fever made up.
I try to move, but my limbs feel like they belong to someone else, heavy and unresponsive. My hand barely lifts before falling back against the blanket.
