Page 60 of Terms of Exposure
"How are you feeling?" my mother asked, already fussing—adjusting his blanket, smoothing his hair back from his forehead, her hands never still. "Are you in pain? Should I call the nurse?"
"I'm okay, Mom." He caught her hand, stilling it against his chest. "Just tired."
"You scared us half to death." She tapped him lightly on the arm. "Don't you ever do that again, you hear me?"
A shadow crossed his face. "I know. I'm sorry."
"We don't have to talk about that now," I said quickly. The last thing he needed was guilt on top of everything else. "Just focus on getting better."
Sebastian caught my gaze. An understanding passed between us—an acknowledgment of all the conversations we'd eventually have to have. The hard ones. The ugly ones.
But not tonight.
"How long was I out?" he asked.
"It's... it's been a while," I answered. Each day carved into memory.
Shock registered. "Jesus."
My mother launched into a recap of everything he'd missed—the merger, Emma, the weather, Mrs. Patterson's hip surgery two doors down. Sebastian listened with half-lidded eyes, occasionally humming acknowledgment, clearly fighting to stay present.
I let her talk. Let the normalcy of her rambling fill the room.
Footsteps echoed down the hall—quick and sharp. I knew the cadence before I saw her.
Emma appeared in the doorway, breathless. Her blouse was wrinkled, hair escaping from the twist she'd pinned it in this morning. She looked like she'd sprinted from the elevator.
Her eyes found mine first—a flash of unfinished business, the audit hanging between us like smoke. Then her focus shifted to the bed.
To Sebastian. Awake. Alive.
She braced against the doorframe.
"Oh thank god," she breathed.
"Emma." My mother rose, drawing her into a hug. "He's okay. He's okay."
I watched Emma's face over my mother's shoulder. Watched the tension in her start to crack. Tears threatened as she stepped back, pressing a hand to her mouth.
She turned to me. "I'm so sorry I wasn't here," she said, words thick. "The meeting ran long and I couldn't—"
"You're here now," I said, pulling her close.
The anger wasn't gone. Not entirely.
But seeing her here—part of this, part of us—I knew we'd survive it.
"So this is the famous Emma," Sebastian rasped.
She stepped back, wiping her eyes with a small laugh. "Famous?"
"Damien won't shut up about you." The corner of his mouth lifted. "Even when I was unconscious, apparently."
Emma glanced at me, eyebrow raised.
"I talked to him. The doctors said it might help."
"He told me you were beautiful." His gaze moved to Emma, assessing. "He undersold it."
