Page 118 of And Now, Back to You

My shoulders slump. Now that I know he’s okay, I am thoroughly and completely exhausted. I feel like I haven’t taken a breath since this morning, in the lobby of a lodge hundreds of miles away from here.

“I was worried about you,” I manage, my voice trembling again. Two fat tears spill down my cheeks and I angrily wipe them away.

He reaches for my hand and grips it tight. “I’ve been doing that a lot lately.” When I look at him, he raises two gray brows over sad, tired eyes. “Worrying you.”

I nod. His episodes have slowly been getting worse over the past year. The spells of confusion and the loss of time. The horrible anger, and then the meltdowns. The doctors say it will keep progressing until eventually he won’t remember much at all.

He heaves a sigh and looks out the window, his thumb rubbing back and forth over my knuckles. “I don’t want it to be like this for you. Rushing away from work. Crying.” He sniffs, dragging his free hand across his jaw. “Hate it when you cry. Always have. Remember when you were five years old and you’d cry every day at kindergarten drop-off? Tore me to pieces. The guys at the docks used to make fun of me for it.”

I snort a watery laugh. “Yeah, I remember. You used to draw me stick figure pictures in my lunch box. You said I could—” I suck in a trembling breath. Let it out slowly. “You said I could hold you in my heart while I was at school. So I wouldn’t have to miss you too much.”

He gives me a long, searching look, mouth flat at the corners. “You know that’s where I stay, right?” He lifts his hand and taps, right in the middle of my chest. “Haven’t left. Good luck getting me out of there.”

I nod, gripping his hand with both of mine.

“I don’t want you running over here for every little bump and scrape.”

“Then maybe don’t run headfirst into nightstands.” A gruff chuckle slips out of him and I lean forward again, resting my head against his shoulder. “Let’s save the argument for another day. I’m just glad you’re okay. And I’m glad you’re here.”

He understands what I’m saying. A tired sigh whispers out of him. “Me too, sunshine.”

His hand eases over my hair and I close my eyes. I listen to the sounds of the hospital around us. Reassure myself with the steady pound of his heart. It could have been so much worse. I’m glad it wasn’t.

“You really aren’t gonna tell me?” he asks, an indeterminate amount of time later.

“What?” I am caught in the hazy in-between of relief and exhaustion. My head is spinning.

“You forget, Delilah. I watch every one of your broadcasts,” he says, sounding smug as hell. “Want to explain what you’re doing kissing that weather boy?” He stares pointedly at my clothing choices. “And why you’re presumably wearing his sweater?”

AIDEN VALENTINE: No weather report tonight, folks.

AIDEN VALENTINE: Jackson and Delilah are officially back in Baltimore. We’re going to let them get settled before we start asking for updates.

AIDEN VALENTINE: Updates on the weather. Only the weather.

CHAPTER 30

DELILAH

A lovely nurse named Charlene with bright red hair and a booming laugh lets me stay forty-five minutes past visiting hours, until Grandpa Gus is snoring like a runaway train. She hands me a small piece of paper with a few numbers on it and ushers me into the elevator.

“These are the only cab companies that will drive in the snow, sweetheart.” She leans in and presses the button for the lobby. “It’s getting pretty dicey out there.”

She’s right. The big windows that line the atrium are walls of white by the time the elevator doors chime open. I rub the sleeve of Jackson’s sweater under my nose and sigh forlornly at the list in my hand. I am a collection of tired muscles, wandering thoughts, and a bruised heart. Waiting for a cab is the last thing I want to do.

“Ma’am.” The same security guard from earlier is inside now, still wrapped in her snowflake blanket. She’s added a lavender scarf and matching gloves. Despite her whimsical choice in accessories, her face is set in stern, unyielding lines. “Please make sure to collect your things before leaving hospital property.”

I glance at the bag over my shoulder. “Um. I think I have everything?”

She raises an eyebrow and points to the corner.

The corner, where Jackson is slumped in a chair with his head tipped back, arms crossed over his chest and his long legs splayed out in front of him. For someone who claims to struggle with sleep, he seems to have had no issue falling asleep in the lobby of the University of Maryland Medical Center.

“I believe that belongs to you,” the security guard says.

I grin, my heart feeling two sizes too big for my chest. He’s still wearing his glasses, and he’s using the sweatshirt I left in the car as a makeshift blanket. He’s the only one in the lobby.

I wander closer, biting my lip against a smile when his face tips in my direction, still asleep.