Boundless Love (book 3)

Through the Fog

Tw: Hospital, ICU, seizure, crying, sleep problems, doctors, nurses, anxiety, epilepsy, machines, panic attack, anxiety disorder, weakness in mussels, guilt, fear, scared

Nick's POV

When I finally start to come around, it feels like I'm surfacing from deep underwater. My body is heavy, my limbs stiff, and everything seems muffled, distant. The first thing I notice is the sound—a steady beeping, rhythmic and insistent, like a metronome ticking away time that I've lost track of. I try to open my eyes, but it takes a few tries before I can manage more than a flutter.

The room is dim, the lights low, and there's a smell—sterile, clean, unmistakably a hospital. It takes a moment for the memories to piece themselves together. The last thing I clearly remember is Charlie's voice, calm but with that edge of worry he tries to hide when he thinks I'm not okay. Then nothing, just blackness, and now this.

I turn my head slightly, and that's when I see him. Charlie, slumped over in the chair beside my bed, his head resting on the mattress, his hand still gripping mine like it's the only thing keeping him grounded. He looks exhausted, even in sleep, with dark circles under his eyes and lines of worry etched deep into his face.

Guilt floods me immediately. I hate that he has to go through this, that he has to watch me like this, helpless. He's been through so much already, and here I am, adding to that weight he carries so quietly.

I try to squeeze his hand, to let him know I'm here, that I'm awake, but my fingers barely twitch. The effort is exhausting, and I have to close my eyes again for a moment, just to gather the strength to keep going. My body feels like it's been through a war, every muscle aching, my head pounding with a dull throb that makes it hard to think clearly.

But I need to see him, to talk to him. He needs to know that I'm okay, that I'm still here. I force myself to open my eyes again and take a slow, deep breath, trying to push past the fog in my mind.

"Charlie," I manage to croak out, my voice rough and barely above a whisper.

It takes a second, but then I see his eyes flutter open, blinking in confusion before they lock onto mine. The relief that washes over his face is instant, and it's like a physical weight lifting off his shoulders. He sits up quickly, his hand tightening around mine.

"Nick," he breathes, his voice shaky with emotion. "Oh, thank God. You're awake."

I nod weakly, trying to give him a reassuring smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. "Yeah," I whisper. "I'm here."