20. Chapter 20
The steady beep of the heart monitor echoed through the recovery room, reassuring against the sterile quiet.
The air carried that sharp tang of antiseptic, mixed with the faint hum of machines.
Freddy looked impossibly small in the hospital bed, his legs wrapped in bulky bandages and carefully propped up on a foam wedge.
Raffe stood near the foot of the bed, arms crossed, shoulders tense. He hated seeing the kid like this—pale, groggy, with tubes taped to his hand. Even though the doctor had said everything had gone well, Raffe’s gut still twisted. Freddy was tough, but the road ahead would be brutal.
Mia slipped past him, her sweater brushing his arm as she leaned over Freddy. “Hey there, champ,” she whispered, her voice soft and brimming with relief.
Freddy’s eyelids fluttered, then cracked open. He stared blearily up at her, his lips twitching before he croaked, “Does this mean… I don’t have to do chores for a week?”
Mia laughed, tears catching in her throat. Evangeline, parked in her wheelchair just beside the bed, let out a delighted chuckle.
Raffe felt something shift in his chest—something warm, almost unexpected. The kid had just gone through hours of surgery, and his first thought was to make them laugh.
“That’s negotiable,” Raffe said gruffly, stepping closer. “Depends on how hard you milk it.”
Freddy gave a lazy grin before his eyelids drooped again, the medication pulling him back under.
Silence settled over them, but it wasn’t heavy anymore. It was lighter, filled with relief.
Mia stayed at Freddy’s side, her hand smoothing down the blanket. Then, almost without thinking, she reached out and found Raffe’s hand.
His breath caught. He hadn’t expected that. For a split second, he thought about pulling away. Touch wasn’t something he allowed himself, not here, not now, not with her.
But the warm weight of her fingers wrapped around his, small and warm, made something inside him soften. Slowly, deliberately, he tightened his grip around her fingers.
Mia’s eyes lifted, dark and shimmering, to meet his. The machines beeped steadily, Evangeline hummed under her breath as she rearranged Freddy’s pillows, but Raffe felt like the world narrowed down to that fragile connection between their hands.
Neither spoke.
Neither needed to.
For the first time in years, Raffe let himself believe—just for a moment—that just maybe, things could turn out alright.