“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said finally.
“I’m not.” My voice softened. “Sable’s here.”
He nodded once, like that steadied him.
Then he reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a piece of paper.
“I wrote you something. A song,” he said quietly. “I was hoping to play it for you.”
I reached out and took the paper gingerly. But he took it back. “No. Not until you get up. You can’t stay like this, baby Quinn.”
“Don’t call me that.” I whispered.
He smiled. “Ok. Seph then.”
Sable and he exchanged a loaded look and then she walked past him towards the door. She reached over and placed her hand on his shoulder. It was an intimate gesture. And he placed his hand on hers.
I looked away. When she left the room, it was Kieran and I alone.
He moved so he was next to me.
Not touching, not pushing — just there.
Like gravity pulling him closer without meaning to.
“Kieran,” I whispered, staring at my knees beneath the blankets. “You don’t… you don’t have to stay.”
“I know,” he murmured.
He slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor beside my bed, knees drawn up, arms draped loosely over them. Hisshoulder brushed the frame — close enough that I could feel his presence like heat.
“But I’m staying anyway.”
I swallowed. My throat felt tight, raw.
“That’s stupid,” I said.
“Probably,” he agreed softly. “But I’m still here.”
He rested his head against the side of the mattress — not touching me, but close enough that I could feel the faint tremor of his breath.
I clutched the blanket tighter. “You should go back to Sable.”
He didn’t look at me.
Didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
“Sable asked me to come,” he said finally. “Because you’re not okay.”
I flinched.
He let out a quiet exhale, almost a sigh. “She worries. I worry. That’s allowed.”
“There’s nothing left of me to worry about,” I whispered.
That made him tense.
