Page 138 of Habits

I take one step forward, just one step. That’s all it takes. If I didn’t have to touch her to reassure myself she’s still here, still breathing and still very much alive although not conscious, I’d probably be on my knees.

Her dark hair is messy, and there is dried blood sticking to the usually silky strands. Her face is a mess of colors. There are a few purplish-blue bruises covering her skin, some red scrapes and the rest is ashen white. There is a collar around her neck that prevents her from moving her head and possibly causing more damage. One of her arms is in a cast and strapped over her chest for support.

So fucking small.

Small and breakable.

Lying like this in the big hospital bed, without a trace of consciousness and her fierce, determined spirit, she’s nothing like the girl I know.

The girl Ilove.

My feet are glued to the spot, but I force them to move, blinking away the blurriness in my eyes.

One step at a time, I move closer until I’m standing right next to her. My hand wraps around hers carefully so that I don’t move the thing stuck to her finger.

“Jeanette …”

Her hand is ice cold, but I don’t let it deter me. I haven’t met a person who’s colder than her. She’s always wearing big socks and sweaters.

Leaning forward, I press my lips to her forehead, inhaling what’s left of her scent. My eyes fall closed as relief spreads through my body, making me shudder.

I can see her chest slowly and evenly rising.

“You’ll be okay, Princess,” I whisper, pressing another soft kiss against the crown of her hair. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Pulling back, I let my finger softly trace her cheek, my eyes scanning her body. Butterfly tape is holding a scrape over her right brow, and her lips seem to be swollen.

“You scared me to death, Jeanette, but the only thing that matters is that you get better. You hear me? Get better and open those beautiful eyes for me, Princess. I need to see those crystal grays on me, even if only to see your rage. I …”

There is a loud stomping down the hallway, and I can hear the nurse hiss something, but then the door bursts open and Max enters, panting hard. “Are they okay?”

His eyes scan the room frantically until they settle on her. When he sees his sister in the bed, I hear him sob loudly. “Anette.”

Max joins me on the other side of the bed. He lifts his hands, wanting to touch her, but lets them fall when he sees her up close, his hands gripping the railing instead.

“What …”

His head falls back and he rubs his face. I can hear his shaky inhale as he tries to calm himself.

“Is she …” he starts, but the door opens again. This time it’s an older, dark-haired man. He looks tired and beaten.

“Max, you’re here.” Surprise flashes in his eyes, then they move to me. I can see his assessing gaze take me in. Silver gray eyes matching the twins’, looking at me with curiosity.

“Yeah.” He gestures in my direction. “Dad, this is Andrew. He’s one of my teammates.”

Mr. Sanders takes a step in my direction, extending his hand. I don’t bother with pleasantries. Barely lifting my chin in acknowledgment, I concentrate on the girl lying in bed. My thumb traces Jeanette’s hand in mine. There is no way I’m letting go. If I wasn’t so scared of hurting her, I’d get in that bed and wrap my arms around her, holding her forever.

“And Jeanette’s boyfriend,” I add, mentally willing her to wake up.

If only for a few seconds.

“Oh, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”

I shrug. What else is there to say?

“Has she woken up?” I question.

“Not a peep since she got here.”

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