Page 57 of Liam
I shake my head, coughing. “I’m fine. Take care of her.”
The paramedic’s eyes narrow. “You’ve inhaled a significant amount of smoke. We need to get you both on oxygen. Now.”
Before I can protest further, they’re guiding us both onto stretchers. The world tilts as they lift me, and I realize how light-headed I’ve become.
“I’m coming with her,” I rasp out as they load us into the ambulance.
The ride is a blur of flashing lights and wailing sirens. An oxygen mask covers my face, the cool air a stark contrast to the burning in my lungs. But my focus is on Aleria. She lies motionless on the stretcher beside me, so still, it terrifies me. I reach out, my fingers finding hers.
“Stay with me,” I whisper, the words muffled by the mask. “Please, Aleria.”
At the hospital, they whisk Aleria away for treatment. I try to follow, but firm hands hold me back.
“Sir, we need to examine you,” a doctor says.
I shake my head, trying to push past. “I need to be with her.”
“You need to let us do our job,” the doctor counters. “The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you can see her.”
I allow them to lead me to an examination room. They check my vitals, listen to my lungs, and clean and bandage a cut on my arm I hadn’t even realized was there. I answer their questions, my mind elsewhere.
As soon as they clear me, I’m back in the waiting room, pacing. Each minute seems like an hour, each hour an eternity. My imagination runs wild, conjuring worst-case scenarios. What if there were complications? What if the smoke did more damage than they first thought?
The weight of unspoken words presses down on me. All the things I should have said, all the chances I let slip by. What if I never get the opportunity to tell her how I feel?
A nurse approaches, trying to get me to sit down, to rest. But I can’t. Not until I know Aleria is okay. Not until I can see her with my own eyes, hold her hand, tell her everything I’ve been too afraid to say.
Because one thing has become crystal clear. Life is too short, too precious, to waste another moment pretending I’m not head over heels in love with Aleria James.
When the doctor approaches with news, I hold my breath. “Mr. Valeur?” Her expression is reassuring. “Ms. James has mild smoke inhalation, but she's responding well to oxygentherapy. She'll be tired for a day or two, but there's no lasting damage.”
Relief washes over me, so intense it’s almost painful. I blink back tears. The adrenaline fades, leaving me exhausted, but I can’t rest yet. I need to make sure she’s okay.
“Can I see her?”
“Yes, she’s been asking for you.” The doctor nods, leading me to a small, dimly lit room. Aleria lies there, looking small and vulnerable in the hospital bed. But her eyes are open, and when she sees me, a weak smile curves her lips.
“You look terrible,” she croaks, her voice raspy.
A laugh bubbles up from my chest, surprising in its intensity. “You should see the other guy,” I quip, gesturing to my bandaged arm.
Aleria’s eyes widen. “Liam, you’re hurt! What happened?”
I shrug. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch from playing the hero.”
She reaches out, her fingers brushing my bandaged arm. “You saved me.”
“Always,” I reply, the word carrying more weight than I intended.
Our eyes lock, and the air feels charged. I clear my throat, breaking the moment before I do something impulsive.
“The doctor says you need rest and care,” I say. “I... I’d like to take you to my place. Just until you’re feeling better,” I add, seeing her hesitation. “I have a guest room, and I’d feel better knowing you’re not alone.”
Aleria’s brow furrows. “Liam, I appreciate the offer, but I can handle myself. I don’t need?—”
“Please,” I interrupt, surprising us both with the intensityin my voice. “I know you’re capable. But I need to know you’re safe. Just for a few days.”
She studies my face, something unreadable in her expression. “Okay,” she says.
