Page 168 of Cara
“Open your eyes.”
I shake my head, suddenly feeling the pillow beneath my head that’s too heavy to lift.No.
“I'll go goddamn insane if you don’t open your eyes. It’s been days. I’ve been watching your chest move fordays. I'm fucking losing it.” His words have cracks in them. “You broke the fever last night. Why haven’t you opened your eyes?”
His hands. They’re stroking me, brushing my face, willing me to return. Like he has done all of our lives, he’s waiting for me to find him.
Oblivion isn’t strong enough.
The memories become just that: the past I must leave behind, choosing pain, happiness, anger, and everything that comes with life. Saying goodbye to those who are gone, loved ones I’ll have to wait to see.
As the vastness narrows to a single guiding point, I finally feel the weight of my body. Aches that remind me of the pain I’ve endured, pain that my mind had been blocking.
My eyes part like they’ve been closed for years rather than days. The haze clears, and Xavier is right there, filling all the space, battered from the inside out. He’s on the bed, hunched over me. His breath becomes shallow and ragged when my disoriented eyes finally settle on him.
“X…” I can’t get his name out completely.
His lips roam my face, gifts of grateful tenderness.
It restarts my weakened heart, awakening my mind.
The Hudson. Isabella. The warehouse. The knife.
My last moments return with a rush.
Racing through a crowded airport, forsaking freedom for something—someone—greater. Waging a battle on those who tried to take him away from me.
My father. His death will be ingrained in me for life, one of those decisions that you can’t move past… and that’s okay. Xavier is living and breathing right before me, which is worth the sacrifices.
“Christ, Sophie.”
He presses his cheek to mine, and as if he’s been fighting to keep his sanity all this time, I hear himshatter.
Seeing what this room looks like reveals enough to gauge his mind space while I’ve been unconscious.
The desk still holds scraps and towels stained with blood alongside the knife he removed from my body. On the nightstand, there’s a needle soaking in a bowl of clear liquid. The smell indicates it’s alcohol.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” he says.
“Never,” I breathe out past cracked lips. “Never.”
“There was so much blood.”
“I’m okay.” I can’t lift my arm the way I want to comfort him. “You saved me.”
“No,” he pulls back, his lips trembling. “You savedme.”
His fingers clutch my hair, his frustration unmistakable as he gives me a shake. “You didn’t listen to me. You didn’t get on that goddamn plane. My nightmares came true, seeing you in that place while I was that broken.”
“You threw me into the harbor.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe you were willing to make that trade.”
“You should have known better, Sophie,” he says, shaking his head, brushing my hair back. “That trade was never going to happen.”
I muster enough strength to hit his chest, and he flinches. “You self-sacrificing, stubborn, infuriating?—”
