Page 71 of Loving Lauren
By the time they reached Lauren’s apartment later that afternoon, Sierra had orchestrated everything: water by the bed, meds within reach, a stack of books, and their journal with a fresh pack of pens. She even tucked a blanket around them before heading to the kitchen. Soon, the smell of simmering broth filled the air, and she returned with a steaming bowl of soup.
Lauren sipped slowly, warmth sliding down their throat, and Sierra pulled out her phone to update The Chaos Coven group chat:
Sierra:Lauren’s home, appendix gone, currently bossing soup around like it owes them rent.
Hearts and laughing emojis poured in, making Lauren chuckle weakly. Then their smile faltered. “I don’t deserve you.”
Sierra set the phone aside, eyes steady. “You don’t get to decide that. I’m not leaving you alone right after surgery. End of discussion.”
That night, she stretched out on the couch, insisting Lauren needed the bed to themselves. She listened to the quiet creak of the springs as Lauren shifted, comforted by the simple fact that they were under the same roof again.
The next morning, Sierra tiptoed into the bedroom. Lauren was still asleep, their face soft in a way she hadn’t seen in months. Something on the nightstand caught her eye: an open journal, slightly askew, as if abandoned mid-thought.
At the top of the page, in Lauren’s unmistakable handwriting, she saw:Sierra, if you find this...
Her chest tightened. She knew she should close it. She knew. Reading it would cross every boundary she’d fought to maintain. But her hand hovered anyway, and before she could stop herself, her eyes skimmed the page.
It spilled with confessions of raw love, deep regret, gratitude so fierce it made her throat ache. Lauren’s words painted her as light, as compass, as the reason they believed they were worth saving.
The words blurred as tears filled her eyes. She’d built walls, yes. Careful boundaries to protect what was left of her heart. But Lauren’s handwriting—you make me believe I’m worth saving—tore through them like they were made of paper. She pressed the journal to her chest, trembling. She had never stopped loving them. Not for a single day.
Sierra placed the journal back exactly as it had been and fled to the shower, letting the hot water mask the sound of her sobs. Maybe when Lauren healed, they could talk about it. For now, she had to focus on helping them recover.
When she emerged, Lauren was propped against the pillows, sleepy but more alert.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, easing into the chair beside the bed.
“Like I got hit by a truck. But a smaller truck than yesterday,” Lauren said with a faint grin. Their gaze softened. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”
Sierra waved it off. “Just emotional about everything that happened. I’m fine.”
They sat in silence, broken only by the soft clink of Lauren sipping the tea she’d made. Sierra pretended to read a magazine but mostly just watched them, cataloging every flicker of discomfort.
The days blurred together after the surgery. A full week passed with Sierra camped out at Lauren’s apartment, making sure every meal was eaten, every pill swallowed, every restless night soothed. By the end of it, the doctor cleared Lauren. The color had returned to their cheeks, and though they still tired easily, they were stronger.
Finally, Sierra cleared her throat. “If you’re stable enough, I think I should head home today. Salem’s probably staging a feline coup by now.”
Lauren nodded, though disappointment flickered across their face. “Makes sense. You’ve already done more than enough.”
“I’ve been thinking of getting a cat,” they added after a beat. “I miss having Salem around.”
Sierra’s heart skipped. “That’s not a bad idea. Cats make great recovery companions. But you know you can visit Salem anytime. He’d love the attention.”
When it came time to leave, she hugged Lauren goodbye at the door. It was supposed to be quick. It wasn’t. The embrace lingered, both of them clutching tight, unwilling to let go. Sierra felt Lauren’s heartbeat, steady and strong against her chest.
“Thank you. For everything,” Lauren whispered.
Her voice cracked before she could stop it. “You don’t need to thank me. This is what people do when they love each other.”
The words hung between them like a live wire, too raw to touch. Sierra pulled back slowly, cheeks flushed, and left before she could make it worse.
Driving home, the ache returned, but softer this time, and it was laced with something like hope. And that hope terrified her more than anything.
At her apartment window, Sierra stood with Salem twining around her legs, staring out at the night. Her chest still hummed with the memory of Lauren’s heartbeat against her own.
Chapter 46
Sierra and Lauren had drifted back into their own apartments and routines, but something fundamental had shifted since the hospital. Lauren was moving without the careful slowness that had marked those first days home. They’d even joked that they were “Never having surgery again, not if they could help it.” Sierra smiled, heart tightening with relief.
