Page 80 of Unearthed Dreams
My throat felt too tight to speak. I focused on Charlie’s hand in mine, on the steady beep of monitors that had become my heartbeat these past weeks.
“Wish Chase was here,” Elliot said. “But...”
“He’s where he needs to be,” Jay finished, his voice gruff with emotion.
I nodded, unable to look away from Charlie’s face. The last update from Harbor Hall had been promising—Chase was through the worst of withdrawal, attending meetings, doing the work. One day at a time, they said. Just like the rest of us.
Dr. Ware moved efficiently around the bed, adjusting medications and explaining the process. I caught maybe every third word, too focused on searching for any sign of change in Charlie’s expression.
“Talk to her,” Dr. Ware encouraged as she finished. “Let her know you’re here. The familiar voices will help.”
She slipped out, leaving us in that liminal space between waiting and hoping. Emma started singing softly—some lullaby about apple trees that made Jay’s eyes go misty. Jasper told stories about their childhood, while Natalie and Tessa added commentary that had us all choking out wet laughs.
But I just held her hand and watched. Watched for anyflutter of those eyelashes, any twitch of those fingers that wrote stories about dragons and magic and love conquering all.
“Come back to me, pretty girl,” I whispered against her knuckles.
Hours passed. The sun crept across the floor, painting shadows on the walls. Family members rotated in and out for coffee runs and bathroom breaks, but I stayed rooted to my spot, her small hand anchored in mine.
Then, just as the sunset started painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, I felt it. The slightest pressure against my palm. If I hadn’t spent weeks memorizing every detail of her, I might have missed it.
“Charlie?”
Her fingers twitched again, more definitely this time. Emma rushed to Charlie’s other side.
“Get the doctor,” someone said.
Everything in my world had narrowed to those delicate fingers and the face I’d mapped in my dreams.
Her eyelashes fluttered once, twice. Then, slowly, those stormy blue eyes I’d ached to see opened, fixing immediately on mine.
“Hey,” I managed, my voice cracking on that single syllable.
She couldn’t speak around the breathing tube. Tears blurred my vision as medical staff flooded the room, but I refused to look away. Not now. Not when my whole world was finally looking back at me.
Charlie’s eyes flicked from mine to her mom and her expression changed, transformed.Relief.
The medical team worked with practiced efficiency, explaining the extubation process. I had to step back, lettingEmma take my place at Charlie’s side while they prepared to remove the breathing tube.
“You’ll feel some discomfort,” Dr. Ware explained to Charlie. “But try to stay relaxed and cough when I tell you to.”
Charlie’s eyes were wide, darting between the faces around her. The fear in them made my chest ache. I wanted to push through the crowd of medical staff, to hold her hand and tell her everything would be okay. But something in the way she looked at me earlier—or rather, the way shedidn’tlook at me—kept me rooted to the spot.
The procedure was quick. One moment of controlled coughing, and the tube was out. Charlie gasped, her hand flying to her throat.
“Ice chips,” Dr. Ware instructed, and a nurse appeared with a small cup.
“Here, sweetheart.” Emma’s voice trembled as she offered Charlie a spoonful. “Small sips.”
Charlie’s throat worked as she swallowed. Her gaze swept the room again, lingering on each family member before landing on me. There was no spark of recognition. No hint of the love that had shone in those eyes five weeks ago. Just polite confusion, like she was trying to place a stranger’s face.
“Mom?” Her voice was raw, barely above a whisper. “What happened?”
“You were in an accident, honey.” Emma smoothed Charlie’s hair back from her forehead. “On Chase’s motorcycle. Do you remember?”
Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Chase has a motorcycle?”
Dr. Ware stepped forward, pulling out a small light to check Charlie’s pupils.
