TWENTY-TWO
NATTY
ForcingKillian to go find a doctor was the right call.
Dr. Henard worked tirelessly to ensure Silas had a fighting chance, and after a harrowing night, we were in the clear. Giles drove the doc home and told us to take Silas back in for recovery care as soon as we felt it was safe.
Now, it was Christmas morning and my heart was full.
I walked into the living room, seeing bodies strewn about all along the floor, and even some on the couches sans the cushions. Jameson held Penelope to his chest in the corner of one of the couches with a few pillows under their bodies. Killian was passed out in a chair with Laura curled up on his lap, resting under his chin, and Wes was holding Callie on the floor where the kids were, Ford and Ellie tucked right next to them.
We were safe.
All of us, we’d made it again, and as tears gathered in my eyes, I tipped my head back and looked up to see the sun shining through the top of the windows. I knew Simon was watching us, maybe Red and Brooks too. They were all watching us go from one war to another and continue to survive it as a family.
“Mom?” Rook’s hand found mine from where he was resting on the floor. I squeezed and then used my other hand to swipe at my tears.
“Hey, are you okay?”
Rook smiled up at me, but he was exhausted, I could tell. I’d found him down in the cellar the night prior, well past midnight. I had no idea what he was doing, but when he’d walked back up those stairs, my son had acted as if he’d seen a ghost.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Is Dad awake yet?”
“He might be, wanna go check?”
Rook gave me a silent nod while clamoring to his feet. We walked into the room together and watched as Silas began to stir. Those eyes that I loved so much cracked open the smallest bit, his pale skin looked as if he’d gotten some color back, but he winced as soon as he shifted to see us better.
Rook moved first, to go to his dad’s side, and I was right behind him. I wanted to go get Ryle, but I worried it would wake everyone, and I was selfish. I wanted a few seconds where it was just our family, and ours alone.
“Hey, buddy. Merry Christmas.” My husband’s voice was practically a whisper, so I turned and grabbed him a cup of water, and made sure the straw was easy access for him to drink. Once he’d taken a few sips, he smiled up at me.
It was the smile that took me back to when we were kids. Back to Latin lessons, hunting for frogs, and watching the sunset on our dock. My heart felt like it had grown in size; somehow, I fell harder for Silas, in every way I assumed I’d loved him with every ounce of love available to my human heart, he’d just taken me deeper.
I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his mouth, covering that smile and breathing in the sweet breath he shuddered against my lips. He was alive.
He was okay.
He was going to make it.
Tears clung to my lashes as Rook spoke to his dad, but I wasn’t really listening, or processing, as I thanked whoever was listening for giving me my husband back on Christmas morning.
Silas reached for my hand, and while Rook spoke about what the kids found in the tunnels, and how they buried jars full of magic glitter, my husband held on to me. His arms didn’t need to be around me, nor his mouth on me. I just needed his touch; I needed his skin on mine.
Ryle walked in moments later, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. His dark hair was shifted in all different directions, but his little eyes tracked up, seeing Silas awake and his little smile lit up the whole room. I pulled him into my arms and held him in my lap, so he didn’t crawl onto Silas at all. Rook sat close to his father on the other side, and the four of us spent Christmas morning surrounding the greatest gift we could have ever been given.