Page 62 of The Storm

“Wow,” I say slowly before I start to laugh and shake my head. “Okay. I’m not going to make any conclusive judgments about your sense of humor because you’ve been through a lot, but that was rough.”

He’s wearing his usual impassive expression. Other than his eyes. His eyes laugh.

“I thought it was funny.”

I tilt my head to the side. “You’re pretty. Which is lucky for you. Pretty people don’t have to be funny.”

His eyes laugh even harder.

“Sleep,” he says in a grave tone.

“Yes, sir.” I try to salute, but I forget the IV taped to the back of my hand and wince when the needle moves in my skin. He rolls his eyes, but I don’t mind.

We’re not the same people anymore.

Now I see him too.

I see right through him.

All the walls and bluster and bravado. They might as well not exist anymore.

I lie down on my back and stare at the ceiling. It’s really noisy in here. Beeps and whirs and clicks and the echoes of voices and cars out on the street pierce the air. I try to block it out, but three days in darkness and silence has made every light brighter and every sound louder.

I turn my head and glance at Nick’s bed. The distance hasn’t gotten any smaller. If anything he seems farther away now than he did before.

I silently urge him to… I don’t know what I want, to be honest. For him to look at me again? Talk to me? Come to me?

He doesn’t.

It’s difficult to say whether he’s asleep or not because he’s turned his head away, staring out the window, and as pathetic as it is, I turn on my side, facing him, just because it makes me feel less alone.

Eventually, I manage to fall asleep.

I wakeup with a loud gasp, springing off the mattress as I whip my head around, trying to figure out where the hell I am.

All I know at first is that it’s dark.

And I’m alone.

That last bit freaks me the fuck out.

I’malone.

Shit.

That’s as far as my thoughts get before there are arms around me.

I blink.

The hospital room comes back into focus, with the faint glow from the hallway visible under the door, the hum of the monitors, and the thin sheets twisted around my legs. My brain catches up to what’s happening.

“Okay?” Nick murmurs.

I nod. “Yeah. Sorry. I was just… having a moment.”

“Reliving the good ol’ days?”

I laugh tiredly and rub my fingertips over my eyes. “All the best ones. Sorry.”