Page 354 of Desert Wind


Font Size:

No screaming.

No throwing coffee.

No drama for the nurses outside the glass.

Just one question, quiet enough to destroy the room.

“Yes,” I said.

Georgia closed her eyes.

The word landed anyway.

I watched it hit her. Watched her shoulders draw in, like her body needed a second to survive the truth before her heart could.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

Her eyes opened.

Something sharp moved through them.

“Don’t.”

I shut up.

“Don’t say sorry like that fixes anything.” Her voice shook now, but she did not cry. Not yet. “Don’t lie there looking half-dead and tragic and sorry, because you know what that does to me. You know I want to comfort you. You know I want to take your hand and say we’ll figure it out. You know I have been doing that for years.”

I deserved every word.

More.

“I know.”

“No, Dylan.” She stepped closer. “I don’t think you do.”

The coffee on the table steamed faintly. She had brought me coffee I probably could not drink and food I probably could not eat because love made people bring offerings to the sick like soup and caffeine could bargain with pain.

“I waited,” she said. “Do you understand that? I waited while you disappeared inside your own head. I waited through the pauses. Through the way you went quiet whenever someone said her name. Through the nights you held me like you wanted to be there but something in you was standing at a locked door somewhere else.”

Her voice broke on the last word.

Still, she kept going.

“I told myself you were healing. I told myself men like you didn’t hand over their whole hearts at once. I told myself patience was love. That if I stayed soft enough, steady enough, safe enough, you would stop bracing for impact every time happiness touched you.”

I closed my eyes.

“Look at me,” she snapped.

I did.

Tears had started now, but she looked furious through them.

Good.

She deserved fury.

“I fought for you,” she said. “Not against her. Not at first. I didn’t even know how real she was. I fought against whatever had hurt you. Whatever made you think you had to earn rest. I thought if I loved you right, one day you’d wake up and realize you were home.”