But her hands find my face like she has to confirm I’m real.
“You scared me,” she whispers.
She’s so pretty—my linda. So sweet and honest.
I grip her wrist.
Tight.
Like if I let go she’ll vanish.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I rasp.
Her lips tremble.
“You almost did.”
The room fades.
The machines.
The doctors.
Everything.
It’s just her.
And the reality slams into me fully now.
I could have died.
Without telling her.
Without making it permanent.
Without giving her something solid to hold onto.
My thumb drags weakly along her jaw.
“I was flying home,” I say quietly. “To you.”
She shakes her head.
“You idiot. You could’ve waited till the weather passed.”
A tear slips down her cheek.
I catch it with my thumb.
“I never told you,” I force out.
She stills.
The air shifts.
“Never told me what?”
My heart pounds harder than the crash ever made it.