I froze. “Cade?”
For a second, nothing.
Then his eyes opened halfway, glassy and unfocused beneath the heavy pull of medication. He looked at the ceiling first. Then slowly, painfully, his gaze moved until it found me.
My entire world stopped when his mouth moved.
I leaned closer immediately. “Don’t try to talk.”
He ignored me, because he was Cade, heavily medicated or not.
No sound came out the first time. The second was barely anything. But by the third, I heard him clearly.
“Pip.”
I broke.
Not loudly.
Probably dramatically.
But absolutely and completely.
Tears fell onto our joined hands while I pressed my mouth to his scraped knuckles and tried not to sob hard enough to scare him. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
His fingers twitched against mine. “Safe?” he breathed.
My heart shattered.
I lifted my head and nodded through tears. “I’m safe.”
His eyes drifted.
“No,” I said quickly, panic flaring. “Hey. Stay with me for one second, okay? Just one.”
His gaze fought its way back to mine. So tired, so drugged, and so impossibly, mercifully alive.
“You did it,” I whispered. “You protected me, baby.”
His brow moved faintly, like he didn’t understand why I was saying something so obvious.
Typical.
Even half-conscious, Cade Mercer somehow managed to be arrogant.
“You’re going to be okay,” I told him, even though the doctors had said hour by hour, even though fear still had teeth, even though okay was a country we hadn’t reached yet. “You hear me? You’re going to be okay because I refuse to add you to my Book of Nevers. I have final say. Author rules.”
His mouth twitched.
Barely.
But I saw it.
A broken laugh escaped me. “You think that’s funny? Good. Laugh later when your lung isn’t being dramatic.”
His eyes closed, but this time, I didn’t panic as fast because his fingers stayed curled around mine.
Sleep took him again, slow and heavy, his body choosing healing over me for a little while.
