He eventually leaves your side and you wake up as soon as he's not touching you anymore, slightly startled.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"That's okay," you say, yawning a little and running your hand through your hair.
"We'll be there soon," he says, packing both of your things. You watch him pack for a second, trying to get your bearings. The sun is up now, and you realize it's been ages since you ate anything. "There's some fruit in the fridge," he says, reading your mind. You get up and grab something, not really caring what it is. You can tell he's thinking about Stella, and you know there's nothing you can say to fix it so you stay quiet, letting him work through whatever he's working through. You make coffee, turning on the TV to distract yourself. "I need to go straight to the hospital when I get there," he says, and your thoughts shift away from what happened before you fell asleep.
You nod your understanding. "I'll go to the house and wait for you."
"I don't know how long I'll be."
"That's okay. Do what you need to do. You'll text me updates?"
"Do you know how to text?"
"Well, sort of. I remember how to read them," you say, and he laughs a little at your ignorance. "I mean it, Lindsey. I may not be able to figure out how to respond, but you won't be able to call and I'll worry."
"I promise," he says, finally joining you on the couch again. You're sick of being in this tiny space, and you lean against him, closing your eyes. You both pretend to watch TV until your pilot gives you a warning and you start to put on your shoes and gather your things. You touch down and taxi in, looking out the window at the familiar LAX tarmac.
You come to a stop and stand up, waiting for the door to open so you can be escorted to your cars. He hugs you, rubbing your back gently and lingering a little too long. "Kiss me," you say brightly, and he does.
"I'll see you later, okay?"
You nod and let them take you away from him, heading to your house to wait.
-----------------------------------------
It's dark outside by the time he gets home, and you greet him at the door before he even has a chance to knock.
"How is she?"
"She's needs a lung transplant. She's been on the list for two weeks. Kristen didn't tell me."
"Oh, Lindsey..."
"She's at the top of the list. They said her chances are really good."
"What's wrong with her?"
"Some kind of infection that severely damaged her lung tissue. I've been talking about it all day. I really don't want to dwell on this right now..."
"Okay. Are you okay?" He nods, but you know better. "I made dinner..."
"Thank you," he says, giving you a grateful smile and following you into the kitchen. You hurry to bring him a plate, telling him to start while you pour him a drink. You sit in silence for a while, letting him unwind a little. He doesn't need to talk like you do. Eventually he breaks the silence, looking at you seriously. "What should I do?"
"Canceling a tour is a big deal, but she's your daughter."
"Do you think I should cancel?" He's asking honestly, looking to you for some direction. You honestly have no idea what the right thing is.
"I don't know."
"Well, her doctor is supposed to call me daily now that I know Kristen isn't telling me critical information. And I gave Stella a phone, so she can text me whenever she wants now."
"She didn't have one?"
"She's ten!"
"Okay, fair enough," you say, laughing a little and throwing your hands up. He's so protective of his girls. "Come on," you say, clearing your plates and putting them in the dishwasher. He raises an eyebrow at you, sensing a change in your mood. You grab his hand and help him out of the chair, and he hesitantly follows you as you drag him out the back door.
"What are we doing?"
You strip to your underwear, not bothering to take the time to find a bathing suit. "Come play with me," you say, wrangling your hair into a messy bun.
"I don't know, I'm tired."
"Oh, shut up and take off your clothes."
"I could get really used to you saying that..."
"I didn't say naked this time," you correct him, climbing down into the water.
He strips down to his underwear and he dives in, splashing you as he hits the water. You would normally be pissed, but you can't be mad at him tonight. When he comes back up, you throw a ball at him in retaliation. He comes after you and in seconds you're out of the pool, sprinting across the patio toward the yard. He catches you easily - damn him and his long legs - and grabs you, easily tackling you and scooping you up into his arms.
Your wet body slips against his, and you lose your will to fight him as he grips your thigh, hanging onto his neck. He drops you into the hammock, and you pull him down with you, laughing happily as you realize he's finally grinning. He falls onto you, your mouths colliding as the hammock presses your bodies together. You both relax quickly, letting your lips explore each other, embracing lazily. There's no expectation, no tension. For a minute, everything else is forgotten, and you kiss until you realize that you're too cold to be outside.
"Lindsey? I'm freezing."
"Let's go to bed," he says, fighting his way out of the hammock before helping you out. You grab your clothes and follow him into the house. As you walk down the hallway to your bedroom, he stops, obviously not sure where you want him to sleep. You take his hand and lead him into your room, then leave him to change into something dry. When you come out he's in your bed, leaning against the headboard and watching you.
"Do you need anything?"
"No, I'm good." You crawl in beside him and let him wrap his arms around you again. "I'm so glad you're here," he says, kissing your forehead.
Your heart almost explodes, and you cuddle up against him, planting a kiss on his chest. "Of course I am."
"Goodnight, Stevie."
"Night," you say, finally letting your jet lag conquer you.
