Page 34 of Shared

I run my fingers through her damp hair, breathing in the rich citrus lingering on her skin, trying to offer some small comfort,even if it’s only for a few minutes. “We’re going to get through this,” I whisper, even though I’m not sure if I believe it myself.

She shifts slightly, her body relaxing against mine, and momentarily, the tension in her body eases. I hold her tighter, just a little, and let myself finally succumb to the exhaustion I’ve been fighting.

We’ll rest. For now. I’ll take care of her. And when she’s ready, we’ll face whatever comes next.Together.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

VICTORIA

Coming to, I find myself entangled with Elena. Glancing over her body, I don’t see Conor. I hastily feel behind me, only to find the sheets cold—I’m not waking up from a horrible nightmare then.

Bringing her hand to my face, I give it a soft kiss before slipping from her embrace and climbing off the bed. It’s like I’m being torn in half. I want to stay here in her warmth, but I need to be by his side. I need to be there when he wakes up.

The guilt hanging over me is suffocating. Guilt that I didn’t tell him how I felt. And even though I wanted to, I was so scared of truly giving myself over to him that I just kept fighting it. The idea of beinghisin every sense—surrendering to him and his dominance—terrified me. I didn’t want to lose myself in him, because I was afraid of how much I’d need him.How much Idoneed him.

I need him as my Dom and my partner. I need him to take control when I can’t—like Elena is somehow doing for me.I need him… and now that I’ve admitted to myself, I don’t know how I’m supposed to live without him. I hate myself for not realizing it sooner. For making him wait while I pretended Icould do this on my own. Pretended I didn’t crave him in ways I couldn’t put into words.

I settle into the hardbacked, unyielding chair beside his bed, ready to wait for him. I’m not leaving again. They can’t make me. Not when I still haven’t told him the most important thing I need him to know.

My hand rests over his, and I watch his chest rise and fall, matching the steady but distant beep of machines. I shift, trying to get comfortable in the chair again, but nothing feels right. I should’ve stayed in bed with Elena and gotten a few hours of sleep.I know I need it. But every time I step from his bedside, it feels like I’m abandoning him. Like if I let go, I’m going to lose the last piece of him I still have.

Unable to fight my exhaustion, I let my head drop onto his thigh. I try to fight it. I don’t want to fall asleep… To miss anything. But my body is too tired. My eyelids are so very heavy, and darkness overtakes me.

A sudden, sharp movement rips me from my sleep. My eyes blow wide, and my heart stops. I jerk upright, my breath catching in my throat and my gaze immediately snapping to Conor. He’s moving. I can barely process what I’m seeing. His fingers twitch—barely—but it’s enough to make my pulse race. His body shifts ever so slightly, a faint tremor running through him. I lean forward, holding my breath, every inch of me frozen in disbelief.

“Conor?” I whisper, my voice trembling with hope and skepticism. And then, just as quickly as it started, the movement stops. He goes still again, and my heart sinks. I can’t breathe.You can’t fucking leave us. “Conor,” I plead, louder and more desperate. “Please, come back to me.”

Tears sting at my eyes, blurring my vision. My hands shake as I squeeze his fingers tighter, a stupid attempt to will him back. “Please,” I beg, my voice breaking, “I love you. I love you so fucking much, Conor. I’m so sorry I didn’t say it before. Please, don’t leave me like this.”

But there’s no answer. No response. Nothing.

I lean forward again and press my forehead against his as sobs wrack through me, raw and unrestrained. “I love you,” I whisper through my tears. “I need you. Please…wake up. Please don’t leave me.”

My heart is cracking and on the verge of shattering, I know it. A soft squeeze of my hand. Light and so faint, but unmistakable. Conor’s fingers twitch around mine again, and this time, I know it’s intentional.

“Oh my God,” I gasp. My lower lip trembles as I gasp for air. “Conor? Conor, please…please, come back to me.” My tears fall faster now, streaming down my face without restraint and dropping onto his body. I don’t care. I just need him to wake up. I need him to hear me. I need him to know.

“I love you,” I repeat, my words barely a whisper now. “I'm so sorry. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize how much I need you. How much I love you.” The words are tumbling from my lips for the first time, and I can’t hold them back anymore. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t live without you.”

He moves again. This time, it’s not just his fingers—his whole body shifts. A soft groan, so small I almost miss it, slips past his lips. His eyelids flutter. Slowly, his eyes crack open, and the sharp, familiar blue of his gaze meets mine.He’s awake.

“Conor,” I choke, fighting the array of emotions rushing through me and tangling together. My hand cups his face, my fingers trembling as I trace over the unruly stubble covering his jaw. He’s silent, and his gaze is fuzzy, but he’s here.He’s here.

“Cailín dáigh,” he croaks. His voice is hoarse and raw. But hearing him speak—calling me his stubborn girl—it’s enough to melt my heart.

“I love you,” I blubber uncontrollably through my tears. “I love you. I’m so sorry I didn’t let you give me what I needed. I should’ve given you all of me. I need you. I need you so much.”

His hand presses against mine, and he struggles through his pain and exhaustion to smile. “Am I going to have to nearly die every time I want you to admit that I’m right? That I know what you need?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

CONOR

Victoria’s soft, annoyed chuckle is a lifeline pulling me through the thick fog. “Elena! Guys!” she shouts, and it rings through my skull, far too loud for my aching brain.

“You’re awake,” a familiar voice flitters into the room from the hallway, followed by Finnigan. His face is a mix of relief and amusement; he’s grinning like he won some kind of victory.

“Of course, I’m awake,” I croak, my voice sounding alien.

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