His lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. “Wanted...you to have it back.”
I get out and rush to Leon’s side of the car, helping him out with one arm around his waist.
Inside, the air smells faintly of paint and wood polish, but the layout is the same. I help him up the stairs, practically dragging him into his room. He collapses onto the bed with a groan, completely drenched in sweat.
With a start, I realize he’s bleeding through his bandages again. I immediately turn to grab the medical supplies, but his hands snatch at my wrist.
“Don’t go.”
“I’ll be back in a moment,” I squeeze his arm gently. “I won’t leave, I promise.”
With that, I race down the stairs, feeling lightheaded when I arrive in the kitchen. Right. Food. Starving for three days.
I inhale a banana and down a glass of water while searching for the medical kit, finally spying it tucked behind the sink. I run back upstairs.
Leon has his eyes closed when I arrive, and my heart surges at the sight of his prone body.
“I’m back, Leon. I’m going to look after you, okay?” My voice catches, but thankfully, he stirs at the sound.
My hands shake as I peel back his bloodied bandages, revealing the splitting stitches across his chest. The sight of it nearly sends me spiraling again, but I force myself to focus.
“Just breathe, Leon. I’ve got you,” I say, dabbing at the wound with antiseptic. “But this is going to hurt.”
I rummage around for a suture needle, but there’s no anesthetic to be found. I contemplate raiding his supply of whiskey.
“Just do it,” he grits out, his eyes half-lidded. “Now.”
I thread the needle, trying to ignore how clammy his skin feels under my touch. The first pass through the torn flesh makes him jerk, his breath hissing through his teeth.
“Leon, look at me,” I say softly, leaning closer. “Do you remember the first time we met?”
His eyes flick to mine, hazy with pain, but he nods.
“You were threatening Teo over something stupid,” I say, pulling the thread through again. “I thought, ‘this man is far too attractive to have more than a couple of brain cells spare’.”
A faint smirk touches his lips despite the sweat beading on his brow. “You were...infuriating,” he murmurs.
“And you were smarter than you looked,” I reply, my voice trembling slightly as I work on the next stitch. “I’ve always…liked that about you. Even when I shouldn’t have.”
His hand weakly grasps mine, his fingers tightening as I push the needle through another torn edge.
“Keep talking,” he says, his voice a raw whisper.
I do, recounting little moments—our arguments, impassioned kisses, the first time we held the twins together.
His breathing steadies, though his grip on my hand remains firm like I’m his tether to something beyond the pain.
At last, I tie off the thread, sitting back with a shaky exhale.
“Done,” I whisper, brushing a hand through his damp hair.
Leon’s gaze is heavy, full of something I can’t quite name. “You’re...incredible.”
My throat tightens as his eyes flutter closed. His breathing immediately slows into unconsciousness.
I watch him for a moment, entirely overwhelmed by the last few days, before sinking into bed next to him. Everything else can wait a while.
“I love you too.”
