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It’s unthinkable.
I tell myself it’s just self-preservation talking: I need Sebastian alive and healthy to make it out of here. I don’t know the roads, or how to call for rescue, and I have zero idea how the generator even works. All it would take is one more blizzard for me to freeze to death alone.
He’s my means of survival, that’s all.
But deep down, I know, that’s not even the half of it. It wasn’t self-preservation that sent me racing across thin ice to try and rescue him, or has spent sleepless nights at his bedside, praying he makes it through this OK.
No, my need for Sebastian is something deeper. Stronger. A connection I can’t bear to think could be severed.
So what does that say about me?
“Avery…?”
Sebastian’s voice filters through my hazy dreams. I wake, disoriented. Daylight is filtering through the bedroom windows, but I have no idea what time it is. I must have passed out again, in the rocker by his bed.
I blink, yawning, as it all comes filtering back into my tired mind. “Sebastian?” I blurt, panicked. He’s been sleeping more soundly, but if he’s mumbling and delirious again—
“I’m right here.”
Sebastian’s voice comes, calm. He shifts, sitting up in bed on his own, and when I search his face for signs of sickness, I find his eyes are clear, watching me. More alert than he has been in days.
Relief sweeps through me. “You’re awake!”
I move closer and press my hand to his forehead. It feels normal. “Your fever has broken,” I tell him, beaming.
Sebastian manages a faint smile. “About bloody time,” he says, with a cough.
I quickly pass him a cup of water, and he takes a few sips.
“How do you feel?” I ask, still anxious.
“Weak. Hungry.” He shrugs, giving me a rueful smile. “Like I took a long swim in a very cold lake.”
“Understatement of the year.”
Emotion swells in my chest, but I try to hide it. I get up and give a brisk nod. “I’ll go get you something to eat.”
I hurry out, but the second I’m downstairs and out of earshot, I sag against the wall, my legs giving way as the sobs of sheer relief take over.
He’s going to be OK!
I gasp for air, shocked at the force of my reaction. I didn’t realize quite how terrified I’ve been of losing him, until now, the danger has passed.
It feels like a miracle. A reprieve, from the dark possibility of life without him.
I pull myself together after a moment, brushing the tears from my cheeks and pushing myself away from the wall. I head to the kitchen, and busy myself heating some chicken broth. We’ve gone through all the canned soup, and I don’t want to waste time making any from scratch right now. After being at his side around-the-clock for the past two days, I’m not ready to be away from him for long. A small part of me is worried that he’ll somehow regress if I’m not there.
Maybe it’s not rational, but I’m finding that things rarely are when it comes to my relationship with Sebastian.
When I return to the room, he’s emerging from the bathroom, hair damp like he just got out of the shower. I put the tray down quickly and hurry toward him.
“What are you doing? I could have helped you.”
He waves away my concern. “I can piss by myself. Thanks.”
“Don’t be posturing, asshole.” I manage, relieved he’s back to his old acerbic self. “You’re still weak, you can barely stand. Here,” I guide him back to the bed, but Sebastian shakes me off.
“I said I can handle it.”
