I curl up with my head on the pillow Mum left on the armrest while Toby falls into the middle seat and pulls my legs over his lap.
He places his bag of food on top of them, the heat of it warming me through as he rips into it and throws a few chips into his mouth.
My eyes drop when his tongue sneaks out to lick a grain of salt or two off his bottom lip, and my stomach somersaults. It’s the first time I’ve felt anything close to normal since I had coffee with Bri yesterday. Shit. How was that only yesterday? It feels like a year has passed since then.
“Want some?” he offers, noticing my attention.
I shake my head.
“Ah, so it’s not the chips you want,” he teases. “You get better and you can have every inch of me, baby.”
My mouth waters at the prospect. It’s been… too damn long.
After he let me go last week to get my head together, there was never any question in my mind that I would end up back at his door. But I also knew that I needed to make the most of the time and space he’d given me.
What we have… the connection we share… I think it’s it.
No. I know it is.
But I also know that there was too much bullshit surrounding us for me to fully dive in headfirst until I’d processed everything.
Well, that was my opinion then.
Now, having almost died in a fire that has potentially claimed Sara’s life, I’ve got to say I’ve found a bit of perspective.
“That sounds like a promise I might just hold you to,” I whisper, my eyes already getting heavy now I’m lying down.
“I damn well hope so,” he says, squeezing my thigh lightly. “I know it’s probably not what you want to hear right now—there are other more important things—but fuck, baby. I missed you so bad.”
Having lost my fight with my eyes, I reach out, searching for his hand, needing a connection with him.
“Me too, baby. Can you promise me something?” I ask sleepily.
“Anything.”
“Never let me go again.”
* * *
When I woke after that desperately needed nap, I was burning up. It only took me about three seconds to discover why. Toby had managed to slot himself between me and the back of the sofa. Both his injured arm and leg were wrapped around me, pinning my body as tightly to his as possible, and we had the duvet up to our chins.
But as much as I might have been sweating in my leggings and hoodie with my very own koala hugging me like I’m its favourite tree, I wasn’t going anywhere.
We came too close to losing each other for good to worry about being a bit hot.
So instead, I focus on thoughts of the guy behind me and snuggle my head back into the pillow.
That was three days ago.
Three days of sleeping, healing, crying, and nothing but the heartbreaking feeling of utter uselessness and desperation that comes along with our situation.
I’m fine. I get a little stronger and my lungs seem to work better every day. I can even swallow now without wincing, which is good.
Toby’s wounds are healing too, and the bruising that seemed to cover every inch of his body is beginning to fade.
But as the visible evidence of our ordeal disappears, the pain that still lashes at my chest while Sara remains in the same state in her room in the ICU is about as unbearable as it was the day she was admitted.
There is still little hope. Every time I’ve visited or spoken to Jesse on the phone, the story is still the same. Keep praying. But they’re worried that the longer this goes on, the less and less chance there is of her body pulling through.