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JOSH
The hallway outside her room felt too long. Too bright. Too goddamn sterile. My footsteps barely made a sound against the polished floors, but inside my head, everything was roaring.
Laura was alive.
The words kept looping over and over, but my body hadn’t caught up yet. It felt like if I let myself believe it too much, the universe would take it away again.
A doctor had tried to stop me at the nurses‘ station, spitting out words like stable condition and still on a ventilator, but none of it registered. I’d shoved past them, past the concerned voices, past the fucking security guard who grabbed at my arm. Nothing was going to stop me.
And then I saw her.
The doors burst open, loud voices calling after me, but none of it mattered.
My heart stopped.
Laura.
Her pale, thin frame was bundled into a wheelchair, her body swallowed up by hospital–issued clothes that hung from her like she was nothing but skin and bone. Her hair was limp, her cheeks hollowed, and her skin too pale under the harsh
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fluorescent lights.
But she was looking at me.
Those eyes–those beautiful fucking eyes–were staring right at me, and I swore I felt something crack wide open in my chest.
Laura was alive.
It didn’t matter that time had taken from her, that she wasn’t the same. She was still the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
The security guard grabbed at me again, but I shoved him off, barely sparing him a glance. My feet moved before my brain could catch up, carrying me to her, and then I was there.
I sank down next to her, my knees hitting the floor hard, but I barely felt it. My hands found hers, wrapping around them like if I let go, she’d disappear.
Her fingers were so thin. So cold.
I kissed them, kissed her wrists, her knuckles, anything I could reach, my breath shaking against her skin.
I was afraid to touch her too much, afraid she’d break, but I needed to. I needed to feel her. To prove to myself that this wasn’t some cruel trick.
“Laura,” I choked out.
Her lips quirked, just barely, and then her hand trembled as she reached for something at her side. The nurse beside her passed her a small whiteboard and a marker, and with a shaky grip, she scrawled two words.
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Hi, babe.
A broken sound left me. Something between a laugh and a sob.
I ran a hand over my face, trying to pull myself together, but it was useless. I was smiling even as my vision blurred, even as my chest ached with everything I couldn’t say.
This was happiness.“Hi. Babe.”
At least, as much as I could have when guilt was busy filling up my ribs, crawling up my throat.
It came out of me all at once, spilling from my mouth like I had no control over it.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I whispered, my voice raw, broken. “I–I fucked up, Laura. I gave up on you. I almost signed–I almost signed, and if I had—”
My breath hitched, my hands tightening around hers.
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut.
“I should’ve known better,” I kept going, unable to stop the words. “I should’ve held out. I should’ve believed–I should’ve-”
I dropped my head onto her lap, my shoulders shaking.
Her body was so fragile beneath me, but her fingers—her beautiful, delicate fingers–moved through my hair, soft and slow, like she wasn’t angry.
Like she wasn’t hurt.
I should’ve been begging for forgiveness, for a chance to make
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things right, but instead, I just stayed there, gripping the arm of her wheelchair like I’d lose her again if I let go.
And then, gently, she pulled the board closer.
I lifted my head just enough to watch as she wrote something else, her movements still weak but deliberate.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight, my heart pounding against my
ribs.
And then I saw it.
“Missed you.”
I stared at the words, barely breathing.
I looked up at her, at the soft, tired smile she was giving me, and something in me caved.
Relief, so overwhelming it nearly knocked me flat, crashed over me like a goddamn tidal wave.
I didn’t deserve it.
Not even a little.
But she was giving it to me anyway.
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