The Sound of Forever

Chapter 48

Chapter Forty-Eight

Keane

I sit in the stiff hospital chair, elbows braced on my knees, hands clasped tightly. It’s a flimsy attempt to keep myself grounded, but the knot in my stomach refuses to loosen. The rhythmic beeping of monitors fills the room, interspersed with faint voices from the hallway. The sounds are meant to be reassuring, but they only heighten the tension thrumming inside me.

Hospitals make me anxious. The times I’ve visited a hospital, I was on the bed either recovering from an overdose or woken up from a coma. Today, though, it’s not about me, and I have to remember that. It’s about Ray and Julie. They need me.

Julianna sits perched on the edge of Rayne’s hospital bed, her fingers brushing strands of damp hair away from her niece’s face. There’s a faint flush of pink on Rayne’s cheeks now, a subtle shift that’s allowed me to finally breathe with relief. The doctor said it earlier, this is progress. Though I’m relieved, I don’t let myself fully relax. Not yet. Once we’re out of here and she’s back to her happy self, I will.

The doctor’s explanation plays in my head like a broken record: it happens to some kids. Adenovirus. I’d never heard of it before today, but now it’s seared into my brain. Common in kids, apparently. Most recover easily. But rare cases—like Rayne’s—can hit harder, causing complications that spiral. Once she’s better, we should take her to an allergist to see if she has asthma or any other chronic respiratory issues.

It sounded scary, but what do I know. I’m not a parent. The only thing that currently matters is that they started treatment, and she’s responding. It’s enough for now.

“You okay?” Julianna’s voice cuts through the haze. I glance up to find her gaze on me, exhaustion written across her features.

“Of course,” I reply, the words automatic. They feel hollow, even to me.

Truthfully, I don’t know how I’m doing. Rayne and Julianna may not be my responsibility, but the past few days have been an exhausting blur of worry and helplessness. Seeing Rayne like this, fighting something I couldn’t fix, has been brutal.

And then there’s Julianna, carrying all of it on her own, her fear so tangible it feels like it lingers in every corner of the room, impossible to ignore. I wanted to ease some of it for her, to help in any way I could, but all I managed was bringing food, staying up late, and keeping an eye on Rayne.

“What about you?” I ask, hoping to shift the focus off me. “You need to rest. I can stay here while you go lie down at my place.”

She shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I’m not going back to Luna Harbor.”

“No, I meant my place here,” I clarify, though the words come out awkwardly. I scratch the back of my neck, glancing away. Because, fuck, do I still own a house here? Maybe it’s going to be just like Sam, my dog. I woke up to find out my best friend had died a year before. What if someone sold my place? After a long silence, I add, “I used to have a house in Seattle, but I don’t even know if I still have it. You could go to Rowe’s place and use my room there.”

Her lips curve slightly, but she looks down at Rayne instead. “You should be the one leaving,” she says. “You’ve done more than enough already.”

“Not enough,” I murmur. The admission slips out before I can stop it. I sigh, leaning back in the chair. “But I’ve gotten more rest than you. Go.”

Rayne stirs, her small body shifting under the covers. Her eyelids flutter, revealing just a hint of her brown eyes. “Mommy?” she whispers, her voice scratchy and fragile.

My heart breaks because there’s no mother, and how are we going to fill that void? More so when she’s not feeling well.

Julianna is at her side instantly. “Hey, sweetheart,” she says, leaning in close. “I’m here. You’re okay. Keane’s here too.”

Rayne’s gaze drifts toward me, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “I’m thirsty,” she rasps.

“I’ll call the nurse,” Julianna says quickly, brushing a hand over Rayne’s forehead. “Keane, can you stay with her for a minute?”

“Of course,” I say, pulling my chair closer to the bed. “We’ll hang out. Maybe we’ll watch some cartoons if the doctors and nurses allow it.”

“Cartoons?” Rayne whispers, her voice still faint but lighter than before. “What about ice cream?”

“Something tells me you’re starting to feel better,” I reply, grinning. “Once you’re out of here, I’ll get you anything you want—chocolate, popcorn, all the candy you can carry. Doctor’s orders.”

Rayne giggles softly, the sound like music after days of silence.

“The doctor will be here soon, Ray,” Julianna says gently, her voice soothing as she strokes Rayne’s hair again. “You’re going to stay here tonight, and Keane and I are going to stay too. Okay?”

Rayne nods, her eyelids fluttering as sleep tugs at her again. “Okay,” she whispers before settling into the pillows, her breathing evening out.

The soft knock on the door comes just as Julianna adjusts the blanket around Rayne. Dr. Brennan steps inside, a clipboard in hand and a reassuring smile on her face. Earlier today I learned this is Fisher Hannigan’s wife. I would’ve never guessed that the keyboardist for Too Far From Grace would marry someone so different from him.

“Hey, glad to hear Rayne woke up,” she says. “I’ve reviewed her charts and her progress so far. The good news is that she’s responding well to the treatment. Her fever is coming down steadily, and her hydration levels are improving. We’re monitoring her from the nurses’ station.”

Julianna exhales audibly, her shoulders relaxing as the tension in her posture eases. “Thank you,” she says, her voice wavering slightly. “What happens next?”

“We’ll continue monitoring her closely tonight and adjust the treatment as needed. If all goes well, we’ll start transitioning her to oral medications tomorrow. For now, rest is the most important thing.”

“And long-term?” Julianna asks, her hands gripping the side of the bed rail. “Will there be any complications?”

“At this point, there’s no indication of long-term issues,” Dr. Brennan reassures her. “But we’ll schedule follow-up visits, and I’ll refer her to an allergist like we discussed earlier.”

“Thank you.” Julie sighs with relief.

Dr. Brennan turns to me. “I understand you’re staying here tonight as well?”

I glance at Julianna, then nod. “That’s the plan.”

The doctor looks thoughtful. “I’ll let the nurses know to bring in some accommodations for you both. The rooms in this unit are smaller, but I’ll see if we can get the insurance to approve a larger recovery room where you’ll have more space.”

Before she finishes speaking, I pull out my phone. “No need to wait,” I say, dialing a number. “I’ll take care of it.”

Julianna raises an eyebrow at me, but she doesn’t interrupt. By the time I finish speaking to Rowan, the room transfer is arranged. Dr. Brennan gives an approving nod before excusing herself.

“That was fast,” Julianna says.

“Let’s just say I’m good at getting things done,” I reply with a small smirk.

The transfer happens quickly. The new room is spacious, with a comfortable extra bed, a reclining chair, and enough space to breathe without bumping into furniture.

“This is . . . too much,” she says as she sits down on the edge of the cot, running her fingers over the blanket they’ve provided. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“It’s not trouble,” I say, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. “It’s what she needs. And you.”

Her gaze meets mine, and for a moment, we stay like that. The exhaustion in her eyes remains, but there’s also a softness, a quiet yearning.

“Thank you.” Her voice is quiet, almost hesitant. “For everything. I don’t know how to?—”

“You don’t have to,” I interrupt, stepping closer. “It’s not about owing me anything. I wanted to take care of you—of both of you.”

She opens her mouth to reply, but the words seem to catch in her throat. I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. The gesture feels natural, instinctive. The way her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting, sends a jolt through me.

“Keane,” she whispers, barely audible, but it’s enough to make my pulse quicken.

I don’t think. I can’t. I lean in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she tilts her face toward me, her breath warm against my skin, and I’m lost. When our lips finally meet, the world falls away—no hesitation, no second-guessing, just the two of us in this moment. The kiss begins soft, a careful exploration, but it shifts as her arms slide around my neck, pulling me closer. Her fingers curl against the back of my head, her touch sending shivers through me.

The kiss deepens, slow and purposeful, unraveling the weight of everything we’ve left unsaid. Her body presses against mine, and I can feel the unsteady rhythm of her breath, the way it catches slightly as I angle my head to take her in completely. She tastes like longing and hope, desperation mixed with a bittersweet ache and a flicker of vulnerability.

It’s not rushed or frantic—there’s no urgency, just an aching intensity. Every movement feels purposeful, like we’re speaking in a language only we can understand, the words etched into the way her lips move against mine. When she exhales, it’s not just a breath—it’s weeks of restraint slipping away, a quiet surrender to something neither of us can deny any longer.

When we finally pull back, my forehead rests against hers, and her eyes remain closed for a moment before fluttering open.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she says softly, her voice tinged with surprise but no regret.

“Me either,” I admit, my hand still cupping her cheek. “But I’m not sorry.”

A small smile curves her lips. “Neither am I.”

The sound of Rayne stirring pulls us back to reality, and Julianna turns toward the bed, her fingers brushing her lips briefly before she stands. I follow her gaze, my heart still racing but my focus shifting. Rayne mumbles something unintelligible, her small face peaceful even as she sleeps.

Julianna looks back at me, her expression unreadable but warm. “We should get some rest,” she says, her voice steady now. “Tomorrow’s going to be another long day.”

“Yeah,” I agree, though I know sleep won’t come easily tonight.

As she settles into the extra bed, I take the recliner near the window, glancing out at the city lights beyond. Tonight it feels like things might actually be okay.

I might actually make it back from the dark.