At the doubt creeping in.
And I shut it down.
“Not on my table,” I say, deadly calm. “Do you understand me?”
He nods immediately.
Good.
“Then move.”
I look back down at Clay.
At the man who should’ve collapsed long before he did.
At the man who didn’t.
My hand shifts slightly—just enough to brush against his.
Rough.
Calloused.
Still warm.
“Hey,” I say again, quieter now. Just for him.
“You don’t get to leave this earth.”
His fingers twitch.
Just barely.
But I feel it.
My breath catches.
“There you are,” I whisper.
Relief hits—but I don’t let it slow me down.
Not yet.
Not until he’s stable.
Not until I know he’s not slipping away.
“Stay with me,” I repeat, softer now—but no less certain.
Because I’m not losing him.
Not after he saved me.
Not after he—
The thought stops short.
Too much.
