39. Chapter 39 #2
“I’d—I’d never leave you,” she whispers, and it triggers a sob from me.
I press my face into the white blankets and cry, one hand squeezing hers and the other rubbing her arm.
***
After a while of us sitting together in comforting silence, the door opens, and Emma’s nurse steps inside. She’s older, with kind blue eyes and short, ash-blonde hair. When she speaks, it’s with a thick Russian accent.
“Ah…you are awake,” she says gently, placing her hands on her hips. “This is very good.”
Emma’s fingers, still loosely threaded into mine, shift faintly at her presence.
I don’t want to move. Not even slightly. But the nurse is already stepping into the space between us and the machines, her hands moving with care as she checks the monitors and adjusts things, all while keeping her focus on Emma.
“I am going to need just a little space, yes?” she asks softly, her gaze flicking between us.
Emma’s hand tightens faintly in mine in an instinctive hold that makes my chest tighten.
I lean closer, just enough that my voice can reach Emma without being too loud. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes drift toward me again, and she nods.
The nurse moves in carefully, adjusting the blanket around Emma’s shoulders, checking her wrist, speaking in that calm, clinical rhythm that nurses and doctors do. “Can you tell me your name, sweetheart?” she asks. I know she knows it, but she’s just making sure Emma does.
“Emma,” she whispers.
“Good,” the nurse replies immediately, smiling with visible relief. “And do you know where you are?”
Another pause follows. “Hospital.”
“Yes,” the nurse says quietly. “Very good. You have many people with you. People who love you very much.”
That makes me smile.
Emma’s expression softens, and she looks at me.
The nurse finishes her checks with a final glance at the monitors as she steps back from the bed. “She is doing better than expected,” she says, almost to herself, before looking at Emma again with a small, reassuring smile. “You are very strong. It is good to see you awake.”
Emma gives the faintest smile in return. “Can I see Heather soon?” she asks, her voice quiet but clearer now. “She’s my best friend.”
The nurse nods without hesitation. “Yes. Soon. She is very close.”
Relief flickers across Emma’s, and I reach for my phone, my hand still unsteady as I type out a message to Heather that Emma is awake.
The nurse steps back fully now, her presence easing toward the door. “I will give you a little time,” she says, pausing at the threshold. “But not too much. You must rest as well.”
Then she leaves, the door clicking softly shut behind her. I lower myself back into the chair beside her bed, careful not to break the fragile closeness we’ve rebuilt, my knee brushing lightly against the mattress. My phone vibrates again almost immediately.
Heather
I’m coming right now.
A breath leaves me slowly, and I look back at Emma. Her eyes are still on me, heavy with exhaustion but clearer now. “Heather’s on her way,” I murmur softly.
Within the next few minutes, the door opens again, and Heather steps inside. She moves fast, but not recklessly, towards Emma’s bed.
“Em—” Her voice cracks halfway through the name.
She reaches the bed and slows just enough to make sure she doesn’t jostle anything, her hands hovering before she finally touches Emma’s arm.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, laughing and crying at the same time, her forehead dropping briefly toward Emma’s shoulder. “I’m so happy to see you.”
I offer them space, standing from the chair and stepping back just enough that Heather can take my place. Heather glances at me, and for a second, her hand reaches for me. She squeezes my wrist in a way that says everything she doesn’t need to verbalize.
Then she turns back to Emma. “I swear to god,” she says, wiping at her face quickly. “You are never doing this to me again.”
Emma gives a weak, trembling breath that might almost be a laugh if she had the strength for it.
Heather pulls the chair closer and sits. “Micah is okay,” she blurts out immediately. “He’s going to be okay.”
Emma’s eyes close, relief breaking across her face.
“And Rafe too,” Heather adds quickly. “He’s banged up, but he’s fine. Everyone made it out.”
The words settle before she suddenly hesitates, her gaze dropping to the floor. And I see it happen on her face. The realization that, no, not all of us survived.
Emma doesn’t say anything. She just gives a small, tired nod, understanding without language. But her eyes flick briefly toward me, and my chest aches hard enough that I have to look away before I lose control of my face entirely.
Heather leans down, kissing Emma’s forehead. “I love you,” she whispers. “And you’re not getting rid of me. Ever. We’re going to be those annoying people who live too close together and share everything.”
Emma’s lips twitch faintly at that.
Heather sniffs, then adds more firmly, “We should honestly just buy a big house, and all live together at this point.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “I mean,” I say hoarsely, still standing just behind the chair, “Micah and I would definitely fund that.”
Heather looks back at me over her shoulder, eyes still wet but lighter now. “Oh, you’re absolutely paying for it after this.”
Emma lets out a small, broken laugh that turns into a wince halfway through, and I immediately step closer again without thinking.
Then her gaze lifts to me, and it nearly makes me sink to my knees. “Our ocean house?” she whispers.
My throat tightens, and I nod, unable to trust my voice as warmth floods through my chest. “Of course,” I manage finally, and there’s a tear already sliding down my cheek before I even realize it’s there.