Page 235 of Immune

“Yeah.”

“I thought saving you meant staying away.”

I swallow hard before telling him, “You don’t get to decide what saves me without me.”

His eyes close.

“No,” he agrees. “I don’t.”

There.

Something inside my chest loosens slightly. It’s not forgiveness. It’s not even close to that particular notion. It’s just one knot finally realizing it can stop trying to strangle the entire rope for a second.

Ellis knocks on the door once and opens the door before anyone can answer. “Sentimental devastation over? Beautiful. I need to check whether or not my stitches survived your little family reunion.”

Maine wipes his face with the back of one hand and he does it badly. I pretend not to notice, because I’m actually a pretty merciful person. And because if I look too hard, I’ll actually start crying again. And frankly? My tear ducts have had enough time under the spotlight. It’s time to give them a well-needed rest for another six years or something.

Ellis checks his side and mutters insults at both of us under her breath. Maine apologizes to her, and she tells him toapologize to his blood pressure because she’s not interested in hearing it.

Mercer appears in the doorway behind her the next second, but he stays out of the room. Hale isn’t visible, which is good. His face would fully ruin my mood, and my mood is already a condemned building with a hefty amount of interesting mold.

When Ellis finishes, Maine looks exhausted enough that I’m surprised he hasn’t passed out already.

“You need rest,” Ellis tells him.

“I need to talk to my sister,” he counters, and the word hits the room with the force of a battering ram.

Sister.

Not file.

Not marker.

Not Omega.

Me.

Ellis’s expression softens for only half a second before she brutally murders it. “Your sister needs you alive and not dead from preventable stupidity. Ten minutes of quiet. Minimum.”

I almost tell her I don’t take orders, but then I take a look at Maine. His skin is far too pale and his eyes keep trying to stay open by force and sheer willpower.

I hate him.

I love him.

And both are completely true at the same time.

“Go to sleep,” I demand quietly, crouching next to him despite my sobbing knee that screeches in pain at the movement. Maine’s gaze darts to me as if he's afraid I’ll disappear again if he does as he’s told. It’s the only reason I mutter, “I’ll still be here.”

The words scrape at wounds that haven’t even begun to heal. They’re not a promise, and they’re certainly not forgiveness, but they are something.

His fingers curl around the hat, and mine rest over them for one second.

Only one.

Then I pull away before either of us can turn it into some meaning too big for either of us to carry.

Maine eventually nods once and his eyes close. I stand there for a long moment, right up until his breathing evens out. I stand there until Ellis dims the nearest light. Until Mercer whispers something to Valeria outside and the compound continues to exist as if the world hasn’t just split wide open and rearranged itself around one single impossible fact.