My voice comes out low and tight.
Because all I can think about is her going limp in my arms while I tried to keep pressure on the wound. The amount of blood. The terror clawing through my chest when her eyes drifted shut and she stopped answering me for those few horrible minutes.
It shouldn’t affect me this much, but it does. The thought of losing her hits me with a level of panic I can’t fully process.
“It’s a little funny.” She shifts, grimacing. “Come on, Professor. Gallows humor, remember? Comes with the job.”
Max lets out a loud whine, unable to hold back any longer. His front paws lift before he forces them down again, trembling with the effort.
“Someone’s worried about you.”
Lila softens as she looks at him. “Hey, buddy.”
At the sound of her words, Max inches forward until his nose touches the edge of the bed. He whimpers, low and aching, and it tightens something in my chest.
“Can he...?” Lila looks at me questioningly.
“Doctor said no dogs on the medical equipment. Maybe just his head?” I suggest noticing how Lila's eyes brighten at Max's presence. “I don't think anyone would begrudge a therapy dog moment.”
Lila nods, patting the edge of the mattress with her good hand. Max needs no further invitation—he gently places his chin on the bed, his tail wagging tentatively as Lila's fingers find his ears. The relief on both their faces is so palpable it makes my throat tight.
“So,” Lila says, her voice raspy but stronger than before, “you drove my truck.”
“I did.”
“Without permission.”
“You were unconscious.”
“Fair point.” She shifts , wincing. “How'd she handle for you?”
“Better than expected,” I admit. “Though I may have exceeded the speed limit by a significant margin.”
“Professor Reed breaking traffic laws? I'm shocked.”
“Yes, well.” I clear my throat. “Extenuating circumstances.”
Her smile fades, replaced by something more serious. “Thank you. For getting me here.”
I look down at my hands, stained with her blood despite my attempts to wash it off. “I should have been out there with you. If I'd been paying attention to the debris field instead of?—”
“Stop,” Lila interrupts. “Weather happens. Metal flies. Sometimes it hits storm chasers. Occupational hazard.”
I shake my head, unwilling to accept her dismissal. “You were right about me. I have no business being out there.”
“Hey.” Her good hand reaches for mine, warm fingers wrapping around my bloodstained ones. “Look at me.”
I reluctantly meet her gaze.
“You did everything right today,” she says firmly. “Most people would’ve panicked. You didn’t. You got me to safety and drove like a bat out of hell to the nearest hospital. That’s not nothing.”
Her praise makes something twist painfully in my chest, because she has no idea how close I came to completely falling apart.
She didn’t see my hands shaking on the steering wheel hard enough I could barely keep control of the truck. Didn’t hear me talking to her the entire drive because I was terrified if she stopped answering me, she wouldn’t start again.
And she definitely doesn’t know that somewhere between the bleeding and the sirens, I started praying to a God I’m not even sure I believe in anymore.
Not for myself. For her.
