Chapter 19 Aubree #2
It takes all four of us, Jesse and Devlin carrying most of Truett’s weight while Nora and I support his injured side, but we manage to get him to his bedroom and settled under his own covers.
He stirs slightly as we move him, mumbling something incoherent that might be my name, and my heart clenches.
“Shhh,” I whisper, smoothing his hair back the way our mother used to do when we were sick. “You’re okay. You’re home.”
Nora checks his vitals one more time, adjusts his position slightly, and nods in satisfaction. “He should sleep through the night now. The fever might spike again, but that’s normal. Just keep pushing fluids when he wakes up and call me if anything changes.”
“You should stay,” I offer, though I’m not sure where the words come from. “It’s late, and you’ve been through hell tonight too. The guest room is made up.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to accept. Her eyes drift to Truett’s sleeping form, and I can see the longing there, the desire to stay close and watch over him. But then she shakes her head, professional distance sliding back into place like armor.
“I should get home,” she says quietly. “But I’ll check on him first thing in the morning, I promise.”
Devlin offers to drive her, and Atlee hugs me goodbye with promises to keep tonight’s events quiet. Soon it’s just Jesse and me in the suddenly too-quiet house, the adrenaline of the last few hours finally starting to wear off and leave us both shaking with exhaustion.
“Come on,” Jesse says softly, taking my hand. “You need to sleep.”
I want to protest, want to stay up and watch over Truett myself, but I can barely keep my eyes open.
Jesse leads me to my room, but I shake my head.
I want to go to the living room, where the fireplace is.
“Living room. It’s my comfort place. The couch with a fire blazing.
It’s the one thing that gets me through.
Those flames licking the wood chase away all the bad thoughts and dreams.”
He nods. “Let’s go then.” Together, we make our way downstairs, and we collapse onto the couch still fully clothed.
He pulls me against his side, and I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him mixed with the lingering smell of antiseptic and fear. His heart is beating too fast under my cheek, and I know he’s as wired as I am despite the bone-deep exhaustion.
“I keep thinking about what could have happened,” he whispers into the darkness. “If I hadn’t kept him alive on the ride home, if Nora hadn’t been there…”
“But you did keep him alive on the way home,” I whisper back. “And she was there. And he’s going to be okay.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without him,” Jesse admits, his voice cracking slightly. “He’s…he’s been my best friend since we were kids, Aubree. We’ve never been apart for more than a few days at a time. The thought of losing him…”
I tilt my head up to look at him, and in the dim light filtering through the curtains, I can see the tears he’s trying so hard not to shed. This strong, steady man who’s held me together through every crisis, who’s never let me see him break, is finally showing me his own cracks.
“You’re not going to lose him,” I promise, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “We’re not going to lose him. He’s too stubborn, remember?”
Jesse’s arms tighten around me, and I feel some of the tension leave his body. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Too stubborn.”
We lie there in the quiet, holding each other close, listening to the old house settle around us. Every small sound makes us both tense, straining our ears for any sign that Truett needs us, but the night stays peaceful.
Sleep comes in fits and starts, full of dreams that feel too much like memories and memories that feel too much like nightmares.
I keep waking to check the clock, to listen for Truett’s breathing in the next room, to make sure Jesse’s still solid and warm beside me.
Each time I drift off again, I’m pulled back by phantom sounds or the echo of Truett’s pained groans or the sight of all that blood on my hands.
Jesse sleeps no better, his body restless against mine, his breathing uneven. Once, I wake to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. I don’t say anything, just press myself against his back and wrap my arms around him until the storm passes.
When dawn finally starts to creep through the windows, painting everything in soft gray light, we’re both awake, staring at the ceiling and pretending we’ve been sleeping.
“I should check on him,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” Jesse agrees, but neither of us moves for a long moment.
Finally, I force myself to get up, padding barefoot to Truett’s room. He’s still sleeping, but his color looks better, and when I press the back of my hand to his forehead, his temperature feels normal. The sight of his chest rising and falling steadily is the best thing I’ve seen in hours.
“How is he?” Jesse asks quietly from the doorway.
“Sleeping,” I report, unable to keep the relief out of my voice. “No fever.”
Jesse nods, some of the tension finally leaving his shoulders. “Nora’ll be here soon to check on him.”
“Yeah.” I take one last look at my brother, at this man who’s been my anchor and my protector for so many years, who last night scared me more than I’ve ever been scared in my life. “Jesse?”
“Yeah?”
I turn to face him, this man who’s become so much more than I ever expected, who held me together when I was falling apart, who’s shown me what it means to be truly, completely loved.
“Thank you,” I say simply. “For everything. For being here, for…for being you.”
His green eyes soften, and he crosses the room to pull me into his arms. “Where else would I be?”
Nowhere, I think as I melt against him. There’s nowhere else any of us would be but right here, taking care of each other, holding each other up when the world tries to knock us down. This is what family means. Not just blood, but choice. Not just love, but commitment.
And as the morning light grows stronger, chasing away the shadows of the longest night of our lives, I know that whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. All of us. Because that’s what we do. That’s who we are.
That’s how we survive.