Page 59 of You Are Cordially Invited

I pushed the thought away and focused on trying to move my fingers or even just my damn shoulder, but nothing sparked to life.

Dammit.

Exhaustion curled the edges of my mind and my eyelids fluttered closed of their own accord.

* * *

Cam

At 5.00, in the cool still of the morning, I was staring at Reuben from the La-Z-Boy next to his bed, lost in memories. A wet car park and a stolen kiss—the first time we’d met. He’d been so far in the closet that he’d thrown me off him and into a wall when a teammate had suddenly appeared. Our first coffee together when we’d agreed to try and be friends. Like that was ever going to last. The chemistry between us had been electric.

Then meeting Cory for the first time and having my heart stolen. The moment we gave up on the just-friends lark and shit got real. The hiding, the walking away, the coming back. Another hospital room just like this. On and on, we had so much history for such a short time together, so many damn hurdles we’d had to climb, including Cory’s adoption and Reuben’s arsehole father’s interference and Craig’s ongoing recovery, but we’d done it.

Reuben snuffled in his sleep and I watched for his hands to move, for some kind of indication we were going to be okay and that he was coming back from this, but nothing.

Nellie came and went. He brought me a coffee and a slice of something sweet I couldn’t keep down for longer than five minutes.

Michael checked on me before heading to grab some shut-eye in one of the staff overnight rooms, and Josh texted to say all was quiet, finally.

I wanted Mathew here. I wanted Sandy.

I didn’t want anybody.

I thought about Stella and the baby and wanted to throw up.

I thought about the wedding, and I couldn’t fucking breathe.

It was too much.

At 6.00 I went to the bathroom, showered, changed into the clothes Jake had dropped off and ringed my eyes in battle-ready kohl. I gelled my hair, glossed my lips, and stared in the mirror.

What the hell was I doing?

I scrubbed it all off again and sat on the floor and cried.

By 7.00 I looked like I’d been ridden hard and put away wet, and not in a good way.

By 8.00 the doctors had been in, woken Reuben who remained groggy, done all their tests, murmured in a corner, and agreed nothing had changed.

By 8.30 Reuben was asleep again.

My skin felt tight like I was bursting out of it; suffocatingly tight. My heart had taken a permanent lease in my throat, and I had nail marks in my palms to go with the tooth marks on the inside of my cheeks.

I pulled my chair closer to Reuben, turned his hand over, and rested my face in his palm, imagining him touching me, imagining if he couldn’t. He stirred and I rallied at the thought that he’d felt my touch, at least.

I ran my fingers through the light dusting of pale hair on his chest and imagined it rough on my back as he thrust into me. I brushed my cheek up his arm and drank in the sweat-stale scent of him, still good, still Reuben. And then I trailed my fingers over his face where I knew he was most sensitive.

He opened his eyes and I fell into those silvery pools, fell in love all over again.

“Hey gorgeous,” he said, trying for a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I love it when you touch me.”

“Hey, beautiful.”

He studied me with a soft expression. “You know we’re gonna be okay, right?” He sounded so sure, and I wanted to ask why that was.

Maybe I was jaded from too many years of nursing. Too many times when I’d watched the chips fall the wrong way for people and I wanted to warn him not to count his chickens.

“Kiss me,” he said.

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