Away from the chair that belonged to her in every official way and to me in none.
“He’s critical,” I said because nurse words were the only safe ones I had left. “The next twenty-four hours matter. Talk to him. Even if he doesn’t wake up. Familiar voices can help. He may hear you.”
Georgia looked at me.
“Did he hear you?”
The question went through me clean.
“I don’t know.”
But I hoped.
God help me, I hoped.
Georgia nodded.
Then she walked to the chair.
Her chair.
I moved toward the door.
At the threshold, I stopped.
I did not look back at Dylan.
I couldn’t.
But I heard Georgia sit beside him. Heard the soft hitch of her breath. Heard her take his hand the way I had taken it moments before.
“Dylan,” she whispered.
Her voice was tender.
Terrified.
Real.
I stepped into the hallway before the sound could finish breaking me.
Lily was there.
Of course she was.
Leaning against the opposite wall with two terrible coffees in her hands and eyes that knew too much.
I took one from her.
My fingers shook so badly the lid rattled.
Lily looked past me toward the room.
“Georgia?”
I nodded.
She winced. “How bad?”
