Page 78 of Vital Signs
“Inconsequential?” She whispered, looking at me with a pained expression. “Everything’s been inconsequential. You haven’t talked about it. You haven’t shouted or cried oranything, Desmond. You don’t have to be robotic.” Her voice hardened, her expression shifting from something broken to something… heavy.
“I was thinking about you,” I said quietly.
The words landed between us, heavier than I expected. I felt it in the way her body stilled, in the way her breath caught just slightly against my cheek. “What? That’s not—” she started, shaking her head, her voice already fraying. “That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.” But saying anything else felt like stepping off something solid into open air.
My hands tightened around hers instead, focusing on the warmth of her skin, the soft flex of her fingers against mine. I brought her hand back to my mouth, pressing another kiss there — slower this time, deliberate, like I could anchor both of us with it.
“I don’t want to make it worse,” I said finally.
Her brow pulled together. “Worse than losing your leg?”
“Worse than… everything,” I corrected, my voice quieter now. Thinner. “For you.”
Her expression shifted, something sharper breaking through the hurt. “For me?” she repeated.
I exhaled slowly, my forehead dropping back to hers, eyes closing because it was easier than holding her gaze through this.
“You were there when they brought me in,” I said. “You saw it. You—” My throat tightened. “You had to work on me.”
Her hands came up immediately, framing my face and forcing me to look at her. “Iwantedto be there,” she said, firm despite the tears still clinging to her lashes.
“That doesn’t make it easier,” I replied.
“It doesn’t make it yours to carry alone either.”
I swallowed, my grip on her tightening again, fingers curling at her waist as if I needed to feel something solid, something real. “I was pinned,” I said, the words coming out rough, unpracticed. “The wheel,” I shook my head once, sharp. “I couldn’t move. I couldn’t—” My breath hitched, betraying me. “I knew. I knew it was bad.”
Her thumbs brushed under my eyes, steady and grounding.
“Des—”
“I could smell it,” I pushed on, the memory slipping loose now, jagged and unstoppable. “Not just the coffee. Everything. Burning. Metal. I couldn’t feel my leg, and I thought—” My voice broke, and this time I couldn’t hide it. “I thought that was it. I thought that was how it ended.”
Her arms wrapped around me instantly, pulling me into her, butI didn’t stop. I couldn’t. It was as if I’d unstoppered something inside of me, and the memory was spilling out.
“I kept thinking I should’ve taken a different route,” I said into her shoulder, my voice muffled now, my hands gripping at her back — she was the only thing keeping me upright. “Should’ve stayed home. Should’ve—” I sucked in a breath that didn’t quite fill my lungs. “And then I thought about you.”
Her arms tightened around me.
“I thought about you waiting for me,” I continued, softer now, the words scraping their way out. “And I couldn’t—” My fingers flexed hard against her spine. “What if I never saw you smile again?”
Silence stretched.
My chest rose and fell unevenly, the adrenaline from the nightmare bleeding into something heavier, something that had been sitting just under my skin for weeks.
“I didn’t talk about it,” I admitted after a moment, my voice quieter now. “Because if I said it out loud…” I shook my head against her shoulder. “Then it actually happened. Not just the leg. All of it.”
Her hand slid up and down my back slowly, soothing, patient. “Itdidhappen,” she said gently.
“Yeah.” I pulled back just enough to look at her again.
Her eyes were red. Wet. Wide in a way that made something twist low in my chest. “You’re allowed to fall apart,” she said softly. “You don’t have to be the strong one all the time.”
A breath left me in something that almost felt like a laugh, except there was no humor in it. “I don’t know how to do that,” I admitted.
Her lips trembled slightly. “Then learn,” she whispered. “With me.”
