Page 86 of Cold Mercy

He drags a hand through his hair, studying me in that annoyingly perceptive way of his.

“You’ll tell me when you’re ready. For now, I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”

Before I can respond, Sophia walks back in with Elizabeth. Liz gives James a subtle shake of her head, the universal ‘shut up, not now’ signal. They’re terrible at hiding it, but I don’t care. My eyes find Sophia instantly, but she won’t look at me. She sits in the same chair she collapsed into when she first arrived, hands trembling just enough for only someone watching too closely to notice.

I open my mouth to say her name, but the doctor walks in.

“Mr. Reed? Mrs. Reed?”

James’s head snaps toward Elizabeth, and Elizabeth's toward him. You’d think someone pointed a gun at them with how violently they communicate, don't-you-dare-laugh telepathically.

Sophia rises immediately, brushing away the last of her tears before sliding her fingers lightly across the back of my hand, just the faintest touch.

“Yes?” she answers softly.

“We ran a CT scan. No signs of internal bleeding, you’re just badly bruised, Mr. Reed. Three broken ribs, multiple contusions. You’ll need rest, real rest. No more stepping in front of cars to impress your wife.” The doctor smiles politely.

She glances at Sophia.

“We can discharge him in the morning. Try to keep him from doing anything… reckless.”

Sophia nods quickly, her voice steady even though her face is anything but.

“Of course, thank you. We appreciate it.”

When the doctor leaves, she returns to her seat, where her gentle hand finds mine again. Her eyes were glued to the floor as if looking at me might break her open again.

“Hey, little one…don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” I murmur, forcing the words past the pain in my ribs. Broken ribs always feel like hell, no matter how many times it happens.

When she finally looks up, the fear is still in her eyes, but I see a flicker of something softer behind it.

“Seems like you’re stuck with me for the next few weeks.”

Her voice tries to sound casual, but she’s too shaken to hide the truth behind it. My chest tightens. Not from the injuries, but from how much I want her to feel safe with me.

“Weeks?” I pretend to panic. “Noooo… what am I going to do now? I clearly don’t have the strength to fight you off. Guess I’ll have to surrender.”

She squeezes my hand, a little firmer this time, and lets out a tiny laugh, just a short, breathy sound, but it hits me like a goddamn defibrillator.

Somewhere between trying to stay awake for her and trying not to breathe too deeply, I drift off without even realizing it.

✽✽✽

When I open my eyes again, morning light is leaking through the blinds in thin, soft lines. And there she is. Asleep with her head resting on the edge of my mattress, her cheek pressed against her forearm, one hand curled instinctively around my forearm like she anchored herself there the entire night. The chair looks like torture, but she didn’t move, not once this entire night.

Elizabeth and James are gone. Probably because she insisted, choosing to sit here alone and carry every worry by herself, the way she always does. A smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it. For the first time, I’m waking up with her still beside me. I run my fingers gently through her hair, brushing a loose strand from her forehead.

“Did you eat anything?”

She jumps slightly, blinking fast as if she’s been dragged out of sleep by a hook.

“What? Oh God…that’s embarrassing,” she mutters, rubbing her face, suddenly aware of how she must look. “I’ll go home, shower, change, grab something to eat, and come right back. I’m not staying here with morning breath.”

She stands to leave, but I catch her wrist lightly.

“Just…come back,” I say, half-teasing, half-pleading, because the truth is I need the reassurance almost as much as my ribs need painkillers.

The idea of her walking out that door, of this quiet room returning to the empty, sterile silence I'm used to...it's suffocating. Her presence, even her prickly, argumentative presence, has become a sound I'm not sure I can live without anymore.