Lightning fractures the dark, white and violent, the walls flickering like they might give up at any moment.
I huff out a breath that’s half a laugh, half aplea. “Come on, Thunder,” I murmur. “This is your element. Wake up, baby.”
She stirs. Barely.
A shift. A breath that catches. Her lashes flutter.
“Thunder,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
Her eyes crack open, unfocused, searching. When they find me, something in her expression loosens.
“Hi,” she rasps.
I bring a glass to her cracked lips, and she takes a small sip.
“How are you feeling?” I put the glass on the nightstand.
“Tired.” She looks around. “You’re here.”
“Of course,” I breathe, not referring to Alf’s hut.
“What happened?” She pushes to sit up, wincing.
“Are you in pain?” I’m on my feet immediately. “Don’t move.”
I don’t want to leave her alone, but I can’t be a selfish bastard. Not now.
“Alf, she is up.” I don’t even know if he is around.
“That’s good.” The healer appears from nowhere and shuffles to the bedroom.
She puts her hand on Roxy’s forehead. “You’re strong. Head hurts?”
“A little bit. What happened?” Roxy’s eyes find me.
“You were in a car accident. A concussion.By the time Alf found you, you were dehydrated and had a fever.”
She frowns, her eyes full of worry. “The baby?” Her voice cracks.
“Baby is good. You’re good. Eat, sleep, and all will be like new. I’ll bring soup.” The healer leaves.
Roxy looks at me, and I sigh. “I trust her, but we will get you to a specialist as soon as possible. I will video-conference with your obstetrician and fly you out if he approves. But for that, I have to drive fifty miles. I can’t get reception here.”
She nods, closing her palm around the sheets.
“I didn’t want to leave you, but I will go and have a helicopter organized if they clear you for a flight.”
“I’m sorry.” She sighs.
I can’t stand it anymore, and lean down and wrap my arms around her. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry. If something happened to the baby, I will never forgive myself.”
“Sh-sh-sh.” I stroke her hair, pretending I have more than hope to go on. “You need to eat and rest. No stress.”
“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, her voice breaking.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.” I kiss the crown of her head. “It was an accident.”
