Her fingers curl tighter against the sheet. “That’s not helpful.”
“It’s honest.”
She exhales sharply through her nose, frustration edging into the fear. “I don’t even know you.”
I don’t answer that. Don’t need to.
Brooke steps in before the tension sharpens. “You don’t have to know us yet. You just need to know you’re not in danger in this room.”
Olivia’s gaze flicks between us again. She doesn’t fully believe it. But she’s not rejecting it either. That matters. Her eyes land on me again. “Were you there?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“You… stopped them?”
“Yes.”
There’s a pause. A longer one this time. Her breathing slows slightly, like that answer fits somewhere inside her even if she doesn’t understand it fully. “Why?” she asks.The question hangs there. Simple. Direct. Wrong.
I don’t answer immediately. Because there isn’t an answer she’d understand. Because there isn’t one I’m willing to give. “They were taking you,” I repeat.
“That’s not a reason,” she says, her voice quieter now.
“It is for me.”
That ends it.
She looks at me like she wants to push further, like she’s used to getting more out of people when she asks something like that. Her attention drops to the IV again, then to her hand. “Can this come out?” she asks Brooke.
“Not yet,” Brooke says. “Doc wants it in a little longer.”
“I don’t like it.”
“No one does,” Brooke replies gently. “But it’s helping. Flushing everything out and rehydrating you.”
Olivia doesn’t argue further. She just nods once, like she’s filing that away instead of accepting it. Her gaze shifts again. Door. Window. Me. Always back to me.
I stay where I am. Still. Controlled.
She watches me for a second longer this time, something unreadable in her expression. Not fear. Not trust. Something in between.
Doc pushes off the wall where he’s been pretending not to listen to every word. “She’s stable enough to rest,” he says. “Keep her hydrated. No sudden movements. If her breathing changes, call me.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Brooke says.
Doc nods. “Good. Less chance she tries to rip the IV out if someone talks her down.”
Olivia gives him a look. “I heard that.”
“Good,” Doc says. “Means your brain’s working.” He packs up his bag without another word and heads out.
The room shifts slightly when he leaves. Less clinical. More real.
Olivia sinks back into the pillows a little, exhaustion starting to creep in under everything else. The fight it took to wake up is catching up to her. Her eyes drift closed for half a second. Then open again. Like she doesn’t trust it. Like she thinks if she lets herself slip, she won’t come back.
I’ve seen that before. Too many times.
“You can sleep,” Brooke says quietly, not looking at me but knowing I’m listening. “It’s safe.”
