"Good. Drive safe."
"I will."
I didn't ask for an update. There wouldn't be one.
The line went dead, and I let my focus blur—mind numbing into blessed nothing for one quiet moment.
Eventually, Susan's tentative voice drew me back. "How is he?"
I refocused on the movement of her arm stirring a sauce in the pan.
"Don't tell him I said this, but he's a mess. Exhausted, stressed, barely eating." I let out a humorless laugh. "I basically shoved an egg sandwich down his throat this morning."
Her face softened. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
A tiny flicker of warmth stirred in me. "No, but I appreciate the offer."
She slid a pan of Brussels sprouts into the oven, then leaned against the counter, arms folded. "Can I offer some advice?"
I tilted my head. "Of course."
"Tonight? Try not to talk about it."
"I don't know what else we'd talk about. It's all I can think about, let alone—"
"Talk about anything else," she cut in gently. "Movies. Books. Let him celebrate you and your first week at Falkirk." A small smile tugged at her lips. "Sometimes the kindest thing you can do for someone who's drowning is give them an hour where they don't have to swim."
I'd been so focused on supporting him that I hadn't considered how desperately he might want to forget for a little while. To breathe. Even for one night.
"Thanks, Susan. I hadn't thought of it that way."
Footsteps sounded down the hall—leather soles, unhurried but heavy.
Damien rounded the corner a moment later, his face brightening when our gazes met. He crossed to me, pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Hey, love."
"How is he?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
So much for Susan's advice.
"The same." His lips twitched as he pulled me close. "But Candace—"
I jerked my head up.
"Not anything to worry about," he added quickly, a laugh breaking through. "She's just nervous about being in the ICU. Said it was overwhelming."
I winced. "I shouldn't have asked her to—"
"She settled in," he went on, not hearing me. "She's reading him Twilight."
A real laugh this time, jostling me in his arms. "Can you believe that? The guy's going to wake up from one trauma only to be traumatized in a completely different way."
I swatted his back. "I'm not having this fight with you again."
"It isn't a fight." He leaned close, forehead brushing mine. "It's simply someone who's right talking to someone who's wrong."
I rose onto my toes, our lips a breath apart. "And who's right?"
"You, obviously."
