𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

LINGERING EMOTIONS

I shifted against the pillow, the dull pain in my ribs flaring as I inhaled too deep. I gritted my teeth, and exhaled slowly through my nose.

She stirred.

Teagan’s body unfolded from the awkward position it had curled into, and she let out a small, groggy breath. Her head lifted slightly, her eyes blinking into the room’s soft glow.

She straightened a little, brushing her hair out of her face as she sat up fully. Her eyes moved over me — the bruises, the cuts, the way I looked like hell in a bed that wasn’t mine. She looked confused for just a moment, but not scared. Not startled.

“You’re finally awake.”

I nodded. I couldn’t trust my voice yet, not around her. She pushed the blanket off her lap and rose to her feet.

“You shouldn’t have come here in that condition.” She said, her eyes scanning my injuries again. Her voice was quiet, but there was something edged in it — concern with frustration, or maybe the other way around.

My lips twitched faintly. My jaw clenched for a moment, and I exhaled slowly through my nose. I shifted slightly, pain blooming in my ribs as I adjusted on the pillow. “I didn’t have many options.”

Teagan hovered by the bed, her arms crossed like a line she didn’t want me to cross. Her gaze moved over me again.

“You could’ve gone to the hospital.” She said, again, but this time, gentler, like she knew she was repeating herself but couldn’t help it.

“I don’t want to.” I said. I turned my head just enough to look at her. “I didn’t want to lay down under the fluorescent lights while strangers stitch me up like I was just another wreck on their list.”

She didn’t respond right away. She glanced down at her hands, then stepped closer to the nightstand where the basin, water, and clean cloth waited.

“I didn’t want to be alone.” The words came out before I could filter them, and for a second, I thought maybe she didn’t hear me.

She blinked, caught off guard. She heard me. She just didn’t know what to do with it.

I looked at her again, and she’s wringing out the cloth slowly. She didn’t look at me as she came back and sat at the edge of the bed, carefully pulling the blanket down from my chest so she could reach the bruises along my ribs.

“I’ll clean you up. Stay still.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” She glanced at me, then back to the cloth. “I want to.”

I didn’t move as she leaned forward. Her hand was steady as she pressed the damp cloth to the cut on my temple. It made me flinch, but I stayed still. I watched her — her brows pulled together, and how she held her breath when the cloth moved too close to a bruise.

“You’ve always looked like that when you were focused.”

She froze for a second, then resumed dabbing. “I did?”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

She did.

If I would let myself speak right now, I wouldn’t stop. I’d tell her everything — every damn thing I held back since the moment she disappeared.

Instead, I let silence settle again.

Heavy.

Familiar.