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“There was a porridge-like substance but—” I shook my head. “I stopped eating craft glue when I was in preschool.”
Tully laughed, his brown eyes shining.
“Wow,” he said. “You were ahead of the class. I didn’t stop eating craft glue until year three, at least.”
I’d do anything to keep him smiling like that.
“I was a gifted child.”
“Can I get you anything from the cafeteria? From an actual café? A proper coffee?”
“Maybe later.” I took his hand, just wanting to hold it.
He perched his backside on my bed and played with my fingers. “You okay? The nurse said you didn’t sleep too well.”
“She’s a dibber dobber.”
“Jem?”
I sighed. “I just spent a lot of time thinking. I can’t do much else.”
The hold on my hand got a little tighter. “Thinking about what?”
“About what I do now.”
“What do you mean?” He was worried, a little pale even. “Are you talking about us?”
Oh god. He thought...
“No, not like that. Not about us.”
He sagged, visibly relieved. “Christ, Jem. I was about ready to call for the crash cart. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Well, you’re on the right ward.”
“True.” He put my hand against his chest. “Feel that?”
I could feel the thrum of his heart under my palm. I smiled, then nodded to the ECG machine. “Mine comes with pictures.”
He smiled but his eyes scanned mine. “What were you thinking about? You’re still kinda scarin’ me, not gonna lie.”
“Well, I...” I wasn’t sure how to say this, and I could only guess honesty was the best policy. “I’m not sure I can continue with my fulminology studies.”
He seemed confused by this.
“Okay.” He squinted at me. “I’m not sure what you’re saying. Are you talking about your work at the bureau?”
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I’d like to stay. I love my job, and if they ever get around to upgrading my office...” I looked at our joined hands. “What I’m saying is, I don’t think I can continue to monitor storms. Outside of office hours, that is.”
He opened his mouth and gave a small shake of his head.
I licked my lips, my mouth dry. The disappointment on his face was a bitter thing to swallow. “I’ll always support your love for storm chasing,” I said. “And I’d once dreamed of spending every weekend, every vacation with you. At the bunker, where it’s just the two of us in the middle of the storm season in that small bed. It’s all I ever wanted.”
He was frowning now, shaking his head. “If you want that, why can’t we?”
“Because I almost died. And you made me promise last time that I’d consider you before I tried to get myself killed again. So that’s what I’m doing.” I squeezed his hand. “Seeing you so upset, knowing what I put you through. It made me realise that you were right. I need to consider people other than myself. Which is not something I’m too familiar with, to be honest. I’ve never had anyone...” I lifted his hand to my lips. “So if that means my research days are over—or field trips, at least—then so be it.”
“Jeremiah,” he murmured.
