Page 140 of Wounded King
"Violet." He calls my name with so much emotion, it pushes all my pains and discomforts to the back. A little bit more cautious this time, I try to sit up again.
"Stay down, tesoro. You were hurt. Do you need anything?"
"You. Just you," I whisper, clinging to his hand like a drowning person. I still feel somewhat discombobulated, like I'm wading through cotton. "I dreamed," a smile forms on my lips. "Oh, it was such a wonderful dream."
He leans forward, and his face fills my vision. I raise my free hand to put it on his cheek. It's rough from not shaving for… how long have I been here?
"What did you dream, tesoro?"
I can almost swear that there are lines on his face that weren't there the last time I saw him. I wasn't in a coma for years, was I? The thought hits me like a burning iron, but my logical nursing mind tells me that this is not the case. My face feels swollen, and I can feel the gauze around my head. I was hurt. If I'd been in a coma for longer than a week, all of this would be healed.
A small giggle escapes me.
"What's so funny?" He wants to know, lifting my hand and kissing my knuckles.
"The irony…" I manage. "First you were shot in the head and now me."
The small curve that was growing around the edges of his lips dies back down into a pressed line as he fails to see the humor in this. Which only makes me giggle more.
The giggles turn into tears the moment I remember the dream. His voice. Telling me he loved me.
"Don't cry, tesoro, please don't cry. You're breaking my heart." He whispers, leaning his head against mine. "I thought I lost you."
"I'm not going anywhere," I promise. "You're stuck with me."
"God, I love you," he says. So evenly, as if he'd said it a hundred times before.
I still. Am I still dreaming?
He lets go of my hand and takes my face into both of his, looking determinedly at me. "I love you."
More tears gather, one rolls down, and he wipes it away with his thumb.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I love you. I've always loved you, but I was too stubborn to recognize it until it was almost too late."
He loves me!
My heart picks up a few notches, the sound on the monitor with it,Beep-Beep-Beep!Marcello looks up, concerned, from me to the monitor and back. I grin at him.
"That's just me, being happy," I reassure him.
And I am. So incredibly happy that my throat constricts, resulting in my oxygen reading reaching a low enough point to set off the oxygen alarm and spike my heart rate.
A nurse I don't know rushes in. "Ah, she's awake. How are you feeling, sweetheart?" She moves straight to the monitor like I did a hundred times before, turning it off.
"Great," I say honestly.
She grins, "That's probably the morphine."
I return her grin like a sappy puppy dog. "It's more him," I point my chin at Marcello.
"That would bring my heart rate up, too," she agrees, "but your oxygen is low… oh wait, it's coming back up."
"Violet, good to see you awake," Doctor Waspo enters. I tense, and the damn monitor picks that up too. Damn. But having Waspo and Marcello in the same room brings back other memories.
"You tried to kill him," I accuse, full of venom, as if it had happened a few hours ago rather than months.
The nurse looks at Waspo in surprise.
