Page 84 of Uncharted

I winked. “And yeah, he was…sheesh. I don’t think it took him more than a day or two before he was going with the flow.”

“And you?”

“It’s been, uh…weeks.”

“Weeks?”

“Before the storm was the first time…something happened. Get that look off your face; I wasn’t going to give details. I’m leaving it at that.”

“Before the storm,” he said in a low voice, then whistled. “And he’s been good since pretty much day one?”

“I didn’t ask when he was pretty much good to go, but yeah.”

“Okay,” he said with a snort. “Yeah, you really owe him by being the one to make things official.”

“I do,” I said. “He’s waited long enough. I mean, he wasn’t being impatient, but that’s…that made it worse, I think.”

“Guilty, guilty,” he said, wagging his finger at me.

I was guilty, but I was also ready to move past the guilt. I was tired of dragging my heels and making things harder for both of us. I wouldn’t say I regretted the time we had as just friends. Hell, we would never have got where we were if we hadn’t started off as ‘just’ friends. But there was always going to be a point where one or both of us changed our lives. And then what?

It would have been a new chapter, where we wouldn’t have been there for each other like we had been for the past couple of years. We would still have been best friends, but it wouldn’t have been the same. I wouldn’t say it was the universe’s way of making sure anytime one of us moved on, the other would be right there with them, but it was a chance I was going to take.

Just as soon as we were alone.

* * *

I woke, not realizing I’d fallen asleep until I realized there was no sunlight, and the room’s lights had been turned down just enough to let someone see when they came in without disturbing the patients. Me and Jake.

Turning my head, I could see him through the soft glow. He was facing me, but his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling. I lay there, watching his chest and straining to hear him breathing. There was too much noise, the air conditioning, the machines as they whirred and churned, and even the soft scrape of footsteps outside our closed door.

I wanted to hear him breathing. I knew he had a monitor to alert anyone if something was wrong, but that wasn’t the same as being right next to him, hearing him breathe as I had for the past few weeks. Especially not after everything we’d gone through together, not after we’d come so close to losing not only each other but our own lives.

With a soft grunt, I pushed the sheets back and went to move, feeling a tug on my arm. There was a monitor for me as well, but there was an IV that made it so the ache in my side was just that, an ache. It also explained why my thoughts were having a hard time connecting.

I pulled on the monitor and was satisfied when I saw it was bundled up. The IV was on a rolling stand, thank God, and I wheeled it with me, careful not to let the monitor pull off my finger.

Taking my time to stay steady, I leaned on the IV stand, wobbling my way over to where he was lying, and gently sat on the edge of the bed, easing back. They had apparently got him the same size bed he’d had the last time, so he could lie more comfortably. That didn’t afford me a whole lot of room, despite him having a larger bed, but it was enough for me to squeeze in, my hand dangling over the edge so it didn’t pull the heart rate monitor off.

I closed my eyes and listened to Jake’s deep, even breathing. It was exactly what I needed. The sound of life in him was enough to bring my nerves back down to earth instead of jumping all over the place. I’d known he was alive, but to hear it activated something inside me beyond reason, past logic, and existing somewhere far more primal.

I jumped out of my skin when his rough voice softly rumbled beside me. “You’re gonna get a reputation for being a PITA if ya don’t be careful.”

My nerves scattered again, and I turned to him. “Only if you tell.”

He twisted onto his right side, giving me more space, but I suspected it was so he could throw his cast gently around my waist, fingers finding the gap in the gown so he could touch my skin. “As if I would snitch.”

“I hope not,” I snorted as I wriggled as close as I dared, keeping the device on my finger.

He shoved his face into my neck and breathed deeply. “Mmm, no.”

“No dirt and moss?”

“Just hospital smells. Gross.”

“We won’t be here forever; you’ll get your chance again.”

“This where you ask me out?”