He leans forward and presses his forehead against the back of my hand, his eyes closing tightly like he’s still praying.
“I really don’t want to take my eyes off of you,” he says, looking back up at me before stretching over to press the call button. “But I’m going to go make a few calls and let everyone know you’re awake, okay?”
I blink once.
Okay.
I don’t want him to go anywhere either, but I understand, so I let him.
He presses a soft kiss to my forehead before he leaves.
I close my eyes, allowing myself to feel everything all at once.
The pain.
The weight of it all.
The love.
And most importantly, that I’m not alone.
A few minutes after Grayson leaves, the door creaks open.
A nurse in pale blue scrubs with a perky ponytail and a kind face rolls in a cart with a computer and meds. I wish Grayson had come back with her, but know what happens next isn’t going to be particularly attractive.
“Miss Alexander,” she says softly. “I’m Kimberly. I’m your ICU nurse for this shift. It’s good to see you awake.” She moves her cart next to my bed and looks over the notes on her computer. “Okay. Your vitals look great,” she says. “I’m going to re-administer your pain meds and get that tube out of your throat now. Sound good?”
I blink in response—yes. Please.Get. It. Out.
She smiles gently. “You’ll feel some pressure, so try not to panic. It’ll be over in a second. Your throat will be sore for a bit, but that’s normal.”
She moves quickly, adjusting the machines and gently guiding me through each step. There’s a strange mix of panic, like she’dsaid, and relief when the tube is removed—fast and jarring, like ripping off a bandage from the inside.
I cough, hard, trying to catch my breath. She adjusts the angle of my bed so I can sit up a little more and offers me a cup with ice chips. I accept it as if they’re liquid gold.
“Don’t push yourself too much,” she advises. “You can talk, but your cords will be raw for a bit.”
I swallow a bit of melted ice to try to calm the fire in my throat.
“Th-thank you,” I say, my voice sounding like it’s covered in gravel.
She smiles again. “You’re welcome. I’ll let your visitors in now, okay? You’re not really supposed to have more than one at a time, but they’re pretty insistent.”
Visitors?Plural?
Before I can think too much about it, the door opens again—and in comes Rylee.
Followed by Johanna.
Nowthisis an unlikely duo if I’ve ever seen one.
I blink between the two of them, still groggy, still sore, but aware enough to realize how surreal it is that they’re willingly standing right next to each other.
Not bickering.
Not avoiding each other.
Just… here. Together. For me.
