The pet name is spoken with what I can only describe as reverence. I can’t believe I used to bristle whenever I heard it. Now, the sound is enough to mend my soul… or maybe it’s the look in his eyes when he says it, that inspires such a reaction. Maybe it’s justhim.
All of him. Everyfacet.
Before I can figure it out, he tugs me to myfeet.
“Come on.” He supports me when I start to sway, waves of exhaustion coursing through me. “Let’s get you back to the fire. It’s getting cold, and you’re shivering like aleaf.”
I don’t tell him my shakes are more from the storm of emotions raging inside me than they are a sign of hypothermia. I don’t have the energy to form the words. He leads me by the hand back to our encampment and settles me by Ian’s side. He disappears for a moment to put the flare gunaway.
When he returns to me, the black sweatshirt from his duffle is wadded in his hands. Like a child, I allow him to manipulate my limbs as he tugs the garment over my head and pulls the sleeves down my arms. It’s so large on me, I can fold my legs up to my chest inside it. Fully cocooned, I’m truly warm for the first time indays.
“Better?” Beckasks.
I nod, even though it’s a lie. How can I be better — how can I be anything but ruined — as I watch the frail rise and fall of Ian’s chest, wondering how many more breaths he’ll take before his last. How many more heartbeats until his pulse stutters intosilence.
A soft moan draws my attention to his pale face. Instantly, I’m crouched close, fingers stroking hischeekbones.
“Ian?”
There’s a long silence. I brace for another string of feverish babbling, but miraculously, his voice rasps into thenight.
“Violet?” He sounds like a child — fragile and afraid. Nonetheless, he’s conscious. He’slucidfor the first time in days. His eyes sliver open and find mine. “I…Iwant…”
“What?” I ask instantly. “Name it, it’syours.”
“Want to say… thank you.” He wheezes, face contorting in pain. “Not your… fault. You… did… yourbest.”
“Shhh. You don’t need to thank menow.”
“Now… or… never.” He coughs wetly, the fluid gathering in his lungs making breath nearlyimpossible.
“Never? Don’t be silly,” I say, blinking away tears. “There’ll be time later, once you’rebetter.”
“Doc… we both know…” His eyes struggle to focus on mine. I think I see a glimmer of his old humor, lurking beneath the pain. “One foot… in the grave…already.”
I attempt to laugh at his awful joke, but it quickly morphs into a sob. My eyes stream like faucets and my breaths turn tohiccups.
“Beck?” Ianasks.
“I’m righthere.”
I look up and see Beck’s position mirrors mine. Crouched directly across from me, he holds Ian’s other hand in a white-knuckledgrip.
Ian’s strength is fading. I can see it in his every breath, feel it in the thready pulse at hiswrist.
It won’t be long,now.
“Take… care of her. Promise… me,” he demands, staring up atBeck.
“You have myword.”
Ian gives a tiny nod. His eyes move back to my face. “You…”
I can’t get out a single word, I’m crying sohard.
“When you… get home… you tell your mom…” He shudders as a wave of agony grips him. “Tell her… I wish I could’ve met her. Tell her… if things were different… would’ve been my honor… to call herfamily.”
I lean forward, tears falling onto Ian’s face as I press a soft kiss to his lips. They’re chapped and still beneathmine.