22. Day 365 – Max
Day 365 – Max
T heo’s t-shirt is soaked, sticking to his body as he sways. But he grips Kenny tightly, his hand cupping the back of her neck where she straddles him, her teeth buried in his neck.
He chokes on her name. “Kenny.”
It… worked.
“I’ve got you.” The voice trembles, shakes. “God, baby. I’ve got you. It’s okay, Ken.”
It fucking worked.
I stare, not daring to blink. Not sure if I’m dreaming, or if… it’s real.
Kenny . Those are Kenny’s eyes – that shade of brown I wouldn’t forget in a million lifetimes, endless depths blinking slowly at me as I take a slow, staggering step. Theo keeps murmuring in her ear, holding her steady.
Her mouth – her lips are red with Theo’s blood. It stains her chin as she blinks at me again. And I pause. Watching, as her eyes mist. As they fill, liquid spilling over in silence and trailing down her cheeks.
It doesn’t stop.
“Ken,” I breathe her name. Drop down beside them both, my hands hesitant as they reach for her. As I gently cradle her face. Her eyes close, but the tears carry on. “Can you look at me?”
She flinches back with a low, deep whine. A silent plea. Jake kneels beside me, his face shattered. “Kenny. It’s okay.”
She buries her face back in Theo’s neck, smearing her face. He sucks in a breath, but he doesn’t move.
God, his neck —
“ Stop .” Oscar’s hand lands on my shoulder. “Everyone, stop. Just… take a second, okay?”
Even his voice sounds wet. I’ve only seen Oscar cry once. In the kitchen that night, when everything felt too heavy.
And right now. He takes a breath before he speaks again. Soft. Slow. “Kennedy. Can you hear me?”
She shudders. And Theo keeps murmuring, his voice wavering.
“Theo.” My voice is a rasp. “Your neck.”
“I’m fine.” Kenny tenses at his words. “You think I care? I’m staying right here. Not moving.”
She’s here.
She’s here.
And none of us know what the fuck to do.
Kenny’s head rears back. As we watch, she lifts her hand and presses her fingers against the blood. And her face… it loses the flush on her cheeks. Any hint of colour leeches from her skin, and she wavers.
Sweat breaks out on her forehead, a dotted line of moisture as she makes another small noise. Her lips move, as if searching for… words.
But she’s so pale. Her breathing speeds up.
Shit. Leaning forward, I brush my fingers over her neck. She doesn’t respond, and I press my fingers, feeling the weak, thready beat. A thin thread that disappears beneath my fingers, and I snatch them away. “She’s going into shock.”
Theo groans. Tilts to the side.
“Steady. I’ve got you.” Oscar catches him as I slip my hands around Kenny, lifting her. She feels… heavier, almost. More present. But she doesn’t move, listless in my arms as I lift her, looking around. Flicking through the emergency aid training I’ve sat through half a dozen times over the years.
“Here.” Jake jumps to his feet, pointing at her makeshift nest. “Get her in here.”
Yes. Omega shock – familiarity. Scents. Warmth. I keep her cradled against me as I settle down, pressing her against me. “Jake.”
He’s already there. He drops down on her other side, pressing himself to Kenny’s back as I cradle her. We exchange looks over her head. Panicked ones.
We can’t lose her now.
Behind us, the door slides open.
“No.” Oscar’s voice sounds like thunder. “You give us a minute to settle her. Get out.”
This is what she needs . Us. Carefully, I run my hands through her hair. “It’s okay, Ken. Just breathe for me, love.”
Jake’s hand strokes down her arm, his voice a low rumble. “Everything probably feels too much. Take your time. We’ve got time, Ken.”
I glance over my shoulder. Oscar pushes the door closed, a first aid kit in his hands as he crosses to a slumped Theo, mumbling under his breath as his eyes flick between us. Something about bone-headed and knows everything and thank fuck. “He’ll be fine in a few minutes. Just a combination of the loss and the shock. How… how is she?”
I press my fingers to her pulse again. “Little better.”
But still weak. I shift, grabbing blankets and tugging them over her. Jake does the same until we’re almost buried, the light of the room forced out in favour of enclosed darkness.
“There,” I whisper. “That better, love?”
My hand strokes her cheek, her shoulder, her hair. Anywhere I can reach as the three of us lay there. Drinking in that it’s Kenny – our Kenny – in my arms. Listening as her breathing steadies, softens. Jake’s breathing is still as unsteady as mine, though. Both of us are reeling.
When I look down, brown irises peek back. No hint of scarlet to be seen, and my breath catches, my voice shaky. “There you are.”