“I love you,” Chase said, shaking her head incredulously. “You don’t have to say it back. I don’t care. It’s enough just to love you. Just to know you’re still here, next to me.”
Norah held her gaze, wanting so badly to take Chase’s sweet, hopeful face in her hands and kiss her like nothing else mattered, like nothing else had ever mattered between them.
“Thank you for being here,” she finally said. It was all she could manage in the moment, but she had so much more to say.
It was near midnight when the blanket of fatigue wrapped around Norah so tightly she had no choice but to lie back down and fall asleep, close against Chase. She could wait to tell her about the clinical trial in the morning.
Their days in the bayou had all blurred into one giant mess of data points and infection statistics and terror and exhaustion, and, Norah had to admit, more than a little bit of enchantment, to the point where she had lost all concept of time. It wasn’t until she glanced at her smart watch at the crack of dawn that Norah realized the date—September 3rd. It was her forty-first birthday. Although birthdays had never been particularly important to Norah, she did find it a little unsettling that she had very little idea she was now a full year older until that moment. She stretched her arms high up over her head and then fussed with her hair until it was in its usual ponytail again, just grateful to finally feel almost back to normal after her bout with the flu.
“Just another day of trying to save the world,” she muttered into the air. For a minute on waking, just like she’d done every morning for the last few days, Norah reached for Chase next to her. But she wasn’t there. Why would she be? Their quarantine had ended, and although they’d continued to share the occasional hand brushes and whispers in the dark, and had even kissed acouple of more times, they hadn’t talked about anything more. Norah had made sure of that. The humidity that had been strangling them since their arrival had lessened just enough to be tolerable, and Norah couldn’t help but notice a feeling of hope ascending inside her. Maybe it was just because she was well enough to get back to work on H7J1, or maybe it was the dramatic turn for the better Stevens had taken. (He was nearly ready to be discharged from the hospital.) No one else in their camp had gotten sick yet, and Norah wasn’t sure whether she had fate or luck or the universe or just good old-fashioned science to thank for that. But she didn’t care. In the last week they’d implemented the new six-foot-of-space rule for anyone outside their individual “pods,” and she had to admit, the reading she’d been doing on the clinical trial was encouraging. Norah still hadn’t told Chase about it, partly because the documents were far outside of Chase’s security clearance, but mostly because Norah wasn’t sure what to do with this information yet. Norah laced up her combat boots and put on her oversized safari hat that she knew made her look relatively ridiculous but also served its purpose, and stepped out of her tent, fully aware that she was already looking for Chase. It was like Norah sensed when she was nearby. And she was seemingly always wondering if she was around. Chase wasn’t close. But immediately upon stepping out of the tent, Norah nearly tripped over something directly at the foot of the entryway.
Sitting on the ground outside was a single, perfect orchid, tall and pure white, gleaming in the sun. A sealed box of Pocky candy leaned against it, and a small piece of paper was attached to it with medical tape. No one knew it was her birthday…except…
She knew immediately where the gifts had come from. A rush of warmth cascaded over her, and Norah knelt to pick up the card.
Fifteen years and I haven’t missed a birthday yet. Can’t start now. -C
Norah’s heart stuttered a little, and she couldn’t help but smile. She looked around quickly, wondering if anyone was watching. Of course, the sentiment wasn’t entirely true—Chase had missed plenty of birthdays. But Norah knew what she meant. She knew, because despite the fact she hardly had time to remember her own birthday half the time, every year on December 15th, Norah thought of Chase. Even when they were worlds apart.
The orchid. Norah had nearly forgotten. A week after her brother died, when the world seemed to be crashing down around her, Chase had arrived home one random afternoon with an orchid she’d picked out from the tiny florist shop near the medical school campus. Flowers had never been Norah’s thing. She found them too cookie-cutter to be romantic, and besides, most green things seemed to die under her thumb. But for some reason, that day, Chase had passed the flower shop and saw the orchid in the window and just had to get it for her. She said it was strong and beautiful, and stood out in a field of roses and carnations, just like Norah. Norah felt her absolutely shattered heart try to piece itself back together and remembered tears instantly pouring down her face as she threw her arms around Chase’s neck and pulled her in as close as she could.
Two weeks later, Chase was gone.
But Norah had spent a month trying to keep that damn plant alive. She set a timer on her phone and measured the exact amount of water it needed with a food scale, researched the best fertilizers and the perfect amount of sunlight. When the last leaf shriveled, Norah cried and cried until she thought she might throw up. Davey was dead. Chase was gone. And she couldn’t even keep the stupid orchid from leaving her.
It could have been a bitter memory. Chase had to have known she was taking a gamble on that. But instead, Norah remembered the sweet smile on Chase’s face when she walked through the door that night. She remembered the feeling that shewasn’t alone. She remembered what it felt like to be so deeply, truly seen.
God damn it, Chase was smooth. She always had been. But Norah had to appreciate just how much time had refined her charm. If it had been anyone else, Norah would have assumed the move was some kind of cheap play to get in her pants again. But she knew Chase. She knew everything she did when it came to Norah was done with intention. And fucking hell did this confuse things even more.
The Pockys. They’d been cast to the side when Norah pulled the note off. But she couldn’t believe Chase remembered that the weird Japanese chocolate sticks were her favorite candy. And where on earth did she manage to get them in the middle of the swamp, during a global pandemic? Norah decided not to ask any more questions. Instead, she wanted to let herself revel in the sweetness of knowing everything that had made them “them” was still very much there. Even if it couldn’t be anything more than that knowledge.
Chapter Fourteen
“I hope you didn’t go around telling everyone I’m getting old,” Norah said, opening the passenger-side door of the jeep. Chase was sitting in the front, engine idling, focused intently on the tablet she was holding. At the sound of Norah’s voice, Chase jumped a little, but a fierce grin appeared immediately.
“We both know you aren’tthatold.” She put the tablet down and angled her body toward Norah’s. “Just older than me.”
Chase was fifteen months younger than Norah, and she didn’t let her forget it for a single second.
“Thank you,” Norah said sweetly.
“Happy Birthday, Nor.”
Norah put her hand on Chase’s thigh, feeling the taut muscles tighten as she did.
“You know I’d almost forgotten about the orchid.”
“I hadn’t.” Chase shook her head and stared out the front window. “I wasn’t kidding. I thought about you every single birthday, every single year since we last saw each other.”
“I know.”
“Actually, if I’m being completely honest here, it wasn’t just your birthday. I thought about you every day. Every. Damn. Day. But your birthday was always a little extra. I imagined what I would say to you if I ever had the chance. I imagined what it would feel like to hold you again. I thought about whispering inyour ear and pushing your hair back and kissing your forehead. That orchid should have never stuck around longer than I did.”
Norah felt her eyes grow damp. A little kissing here and there, some cuddling to ease the loneliness, that was fine. But this couldn’t venture into feelings. She had to keep her heart out of it.
“Chase, don’t. We’ve been through this. I forgive you. You can relieve yourself of whatever guilt you’re holding onto.” Norah let out a sarcastic chuckle, content to feel her walls come back up just enough.
“Guilt and regret aren’t the same thing, you know.” Chase was facing her again, her gaze boring into Norah’s. She’d always had a knack for eye contact, a magnetic force of a gaze that locked with Norah’s and refused to let go. And every time she did, Norah was useless. The tiny fortress she had reassembled around her once again crumbled like it was nothing more than cheap plastic, and all she could think about was how much she wanted Chase’s hands in her hair.
