Page 170 of Flint’s Strike

I stop stroking his hair, pull back, and wait for him to look at me. My heart pounds hard enough I can feel it in my ears. “And are they?”

Eliot skims a knuckle along my jaw, a weak smile curving his lips. “No more than they were yesterday.”

“Eliot.”

The tremor in my voice sobers him, and he cups the back of my head, careful not to jostle the oxygen tube. “Everything came back clear, Parker. My knee’s gonna be a problem for a while, but as long as you don’t mind bein’ seen with a guy usin’ a cane…”

I shake my head softly, and urge him back down next to me. Holding him isn’t enough. I keep touching his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead, trying to commit everything about this moment to memory. The warmth of his cheek against my chest, the uneven rhythm of his breathing—and mine.

The way he fits his body to mine like we were always meant to be together.

He finds the gap in the hospital gown, and presses his palm to the small of my back. The tremor in his fingers is so slight, I almost miss it.

His eyes are closed, his face slack with exhaustion, and the sight of him like this hurts in a way nothing else in my life ever has.

I almost lost him.

Dipping my head, I press my lips to his forehead. “I love you.”

His breath hitches.

For one terrible second, time stops.

He pulls me tighter against him, turns his face into my chest, and lets out a sob.

My eyes burn. It’s too soon. I should have waited. We’ve barely been together three weeks. Who falls in love in three weeks?

Me, apparently.

He breaks in my arms, tears soaking into my hospital gown. I hold on, pressing kisses to his hair until the part of me that’s always been strong shatters along with him.

I can’t fix what happened to us. I can’t change it. But I can give him this. My arms around him. My heartbeat under his cheek. The promise that if—when—he reaches for me, I’ll be here.

His sobs start to fade. Mine follow. And when he lifts his head, eyes wet, bloodshot, and swollen, I don’t look away.

His jaw works, and he inches higher, touching his forehead to mine. A single, broken breath shudders through him.

“Parker…”

“Don’t. You don’t have to say anything. Just…stay here with me.” My throat aches, still rough with soot. “Don’t let go.”

One last tear spills down his cheek. “Parker, I love you. I love you so damn much.”

I don’t answer him. I can’t. Not right away. So I cup his face in both hands, careful of the bandage, and kiss him.

It’s not gentle. It’s pure and raw and desperate. It’s every moment I spent terrified I’d be too late. Every second I feared I’d lose him forever.

I only pull back when I start to wheeze. Eliot reaches for the call button, but I shake my head. “I’m...okay.”

“Parker—”

For a moment, I focus on my breath. On the oxygen. On Eliot’s warmth. My chest eases. The next breath is quieter. The one after that, almost steady.

“I want…a life…with you, Eliot. One…we build…together.”

He tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering at the pulse point of my neck. “I want that too. More than anything.”

The nurse comes in to check our vitals and turn down the lights. Eliot barely stirs, but I haven’t been able to sleep yet.