“Someone’s got to make sure you feed yourself,” he says, plopping me on the couch. “Since it’s never you, the responsibility falls to me to feed and water you like a house plant.”
I eat the whole thing. It’s incredible. Griffin wanders back through the living room on his way to the gym and ruffles my hair, which makes me want to hug him. Benji brings me chamomile tea before taking Bob for a walk. Zoey sits in the armchair, eating a bag of pretzels and saying nothing. I’ve seen Zoey more since escaping the trials than the entire time I’ve lived in the house.
I rest my head on the back of the couch, my eyes glued to the driveway. Every movement in the trees makes my heart jump, and then it’s not a car, and I deflate again. This is ridiculous. Nico is just a guy.
Except he’s not just anything. He’s something that my heart has never encountered before, that it doesn’t even have anamefor.
I wonder if it’s possible to die from anticipation. I’m close to finding out when DJ’s Jeep turns into the driveway.
Bob growls. DJ climbs out of the driver’s side. I watch so closely as she walks around to the trunk, pulling out a folded wheelchair.
The passenger door opens, and my entire world narrows to a single point of focus.
Nico braces one hand against the door frame to leverage himself out, moving carefully like his body might betray himif he’s not paying attention. He’s wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that makes him look smaller than he is. His stubble from the abandoned hospital has grown into a short beard, and his face is a canvas daubed with purple and yellow bruises, the edges fading from near black to sickly green. His hair falls across his forehead in stiff strands and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that has scabbed over. His feet are wrapped in bandages that match mine. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders.
I cup a hand over my mouth as I laugh.
DJ rolls the wheelchair up behind him and he collapses into it, his jaw tight with what I know is frustration. He must hate this. Hate needing help or being seen like this.
I scramble for my wheelchair.
The door opens.
“—told you that nurse was checking you out,” DJ says, her voice carrying into the house. “Did you see the way she kept finding excuses to come take your vitals?”
“DJ.” Nico’s voice cuts through her rambling. “Please.”
I push down hard on the rims, rolling myself out into the hallway.
Nico’s eyes lock on mine. The way his face crumples makes my throat close.
“Eden,” he says, and there’s so much in the way he says my name.
“Hi.”
DJ steps out from around him. “I’m going to… go check on literally anything else.”
I nod, but am unable to look anywhere else but at him. Nico stands up out of the chair and takes one unbalanced step toward me. I struggle out of my own chair and stagger toward him.
We collide in the middle of the hallway.
His arms come around me like vices, crushing me against him. My good hand comes around the back of his neck while my bandaged one is squished between us, and we’re sinking, knees giving out at the same time, until we’re crumpled on the floor.
Everything comes pouring out of me at once, and there’s no hope of me keeping it together.
“You’re here.” I sob into his shoulder. “You’re actuallyhere.”
“I’m here.” He holds me even tighter. “I’m here.You’rehere.”
“I’m here.”
I’m laughing even though tears are streaming down my cheeks. I ease one of his hands from my shoulder to examine it. His wrists have scabbed over. His tattoos are broken in places, but most of the ink has gone back to being clear against his pale skin. His fingers curl around mine with only the smallest tremor.
“How do they feel?” I ask.
“I’m loving physical therapy,” he deadpans. “It’s so fun.” He laces his fingers through mine, giving a gentle squeeze that makes my breath catch. “I should regain everything.”
The relief that floods through me is so intense that I feel weightless. “Do they hurt?”
