Page 133 of Bulletproof

He turned his head to me. “When I got there, to the accident site, I was really out of it, really sick, but I could tell … they were cutting you out of the car. When I saw what it looked like—yeah, I thought you were dead.”

This was the problem. He was having trouble coming back from that horror.

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

He nodded, just barely. “When they had you secured on the board, I heard you call my name,” he said haltingly, looking at me. “I won’t ever forget what you sounded like at that moment, J. Some things just stay, and that’s gonna be one of them. I couldn’t even stand up.”

I reached a hand out for him, and he crossed the room fast to take it.

I pressed his warm palm to my heart. “You need me.”

“I more than need you,” he replied, trembling. “I don’t work without you. I just don’t.”

“Same here,” I assured him, closing my eyes.

I was tired again, and it just sort of washed over me. I was just going to rest my eyes for a second.

It was late. Sam was asleep on a cot next to my bed. I wanted to sit up, but I was at a weird angle.

“What are you trying to do?”

He yawned, and I looked down at him, watching him stretch before getting up to come to my bedside.

“How are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“You are so not this light of a sleeper.”

“I am when I need to be.”

“Gonna come in handy for kids, huh?”

He grinned sleepily. “What’re you trying to do?”

“Sit up.”

“Okay.”

He yawned again, shaking with a stretch for a second before pressing buttons on the side of the bed. I came up slowly.

“There. How’s that?”

“Good.”

“You want some water?”

“No.”

“You want me to go out and get you something to eat? They took the catheter out today—which I could barely watch, Christ—and they said you could have real food tomorrow, but you can probably start tonight if you⁠—”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

He shook his head.

“Why? Afraid if you say it, then it might come true?”

His brows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed; he was really working hard to hold it together for me.