Still weak—but steady.
Her eyes open slowly, unfocused at first, like she’s surfacing from somewhere deep. They drift across the shelter roof, the woven palm leaves overhead, then toward the light spilling in through the trees.
It takes a moment before they land on me.
She blinks.
Confusion settles across her face as she studies me, like she’s trying to figure out where she is—or maybe who I am.
I don’t realize how hard I’m gripping the edge of the mat until my knuckles start to ache.
“Hey.” My voice comes out rough.
Her gaze sharpens slightly.
“Dane?”
Hearing my name from her pulls at something I’ve been trying not to feel. Relief follows before I can stop it.
“Yeah.” I lean in a little closer. “It’s me.”
Her eyes drift around the shelter again, slower now. She takes in the bandage on her leg, the cloth under her head, the supplies stacked nearby.
Then she looks back at me.
“What… happened?”
Her voice is thin, dry. I reach for the water beside her and slide an arm behind her shoulders before she can try to sit up.
“Easy.” I lift her just enough. “Don’t move too fast.”
She takes a small sip, then another, swallowing carefully before easing back down.
For a moment, she just lies there, breathing. Then her eyes find mine again. Something uncertain flickers in them.
“I thought I died.”
I drag a hand over the back of my neck, letting out a slow breath.
“Yeah,” I say. “There were a few times I thought you did too.”
Her brow tightens.
“Your pulse got so weak I could barely find it.” My voice stays low, steady, even though the memory still twists something cold in my chest. “You stopped responding for a while.”
Charlotte watches me, taking it in.
“Did we say anything?”
The words hit before I can stop them.
I tried to stay out of your way.
But it’s mine that stick.
I can’t do this without you. I love you.
I keep it off my face.
