Page 88 of It's Always Sonny

She fastens the tent flap as fast as she can. She’s weeping. For someone who hates letting people see her cry, she is a beautiful crier. She doesn’t have any makeup on, and as she rips off her beanie, I see her hair down, and I’m struck with how tiny and fierce and vulnerable she is.

“I know. I’m so sorry. But I need you to take off your clothes, okay?”

“What?”

The tent is barely tall enough for her to stand in, so she crouches and starts peeling off my clothes. “You have hypothermia, remember?” She tosses off my wet hoodie and then my sneakers. She’s more careful with my knee brace and then my pants.

“I always imagined this being a lot more exciting.”

A strangled laugh escapes her. “Get in the sleeping bag.”

I can tell it’s not as bitter in the tent as it was outside, but the skin that has sensation left feels like it’s being stabbed with tiny icicles. I do my best to shuffle into the sleeping bag while she tears her clothes off down to her sports bra and …

“Are those granny undies?”

“Blanche Knows Best.” She says with a strained smile. She pulls her socks off. “Now stop looking.”

“I don’t have my fac-you-lit-ees. Faclitees?”

“Faculties.”

“Your undies are sort of cute. Bigger than I imagined, but they’re cute.”

“I’ll be sure to tell McLadyPants you approve.”

She starts to slide into the sleeping bag when the air gets so heavy, I have to fight to keep my eyes open.

“This has to be the biggest disappointment of my life.”

“I’m going to save you, Sonny,” she whispers, her lips against my ear, her body wrapped protectively around mine. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I sigh.

“Tell me.”

Her nose presses into my cheek, and I have just enough sensation in my face to feel how cold her nose is, too. My thoughts are slipping away from me. But I hold on to the last thing I can think of. “You’re finally lying next to me, and I can barely feel a thing.”

“Sonny,” she cries again, and I want to comfort her, but everything goes dark.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Parker

Idon’t know how long we’ve been huddled together when my phone buzzes, but it has to be forty-five minutes or an hour, at least. Long enough that I’ve cried every last tear out of my body. Long enough to notice the change in his breathing from ragged to steady. And his pulse has picked up.

It was scary low.

It’s less scary now. The sleeping bag feels a bit warmer, too, and I can almost breathe easily.

Figuratively speaking, of course. I never breathe easily.

I’m pressed against Sonny’s side, my arms and legs around him as much as they can be. His arms were wrapped around me before he fell asleep, so I’ve had to wiggle around them. It’s a mummy bag that we definitely could not fit in if I weren’t attached to him like a koala. I pulled the head cover as close around Sonny’s head as I could, which doesn’t leave me much room.

I couldn’t care less.

My phone buzzes, and I’m glad I had the foresight to keep our phones so close. I shoot my hand out and bring it back as fast as I can, because as worried as I am about Sonny, I have to know if there’s any news about Harry, too.

Or maybe it’s my mom texting about my dad having cancer.

---