Page 50 of The Sound of Forever
“Something tells me you’re starting to feel better,” I reply, grinning. “Once you’re out of here, I’ll get you anything you want—chocolate, popcorn, all the candy you can carry. Doctor’s orders.”
Rayne giggles softly, the sound like music after days of silence.
“The doctor will be here soon, Ray,” Julianna says gently, her voice soothing as she strokes Rayne’s hair again. “You’re going to stay here tonight, and Keane and I are going to stay too. Okay?”
Rayne nods, her eyelids fluttering as sleep tugs at her again. “Okay,” she whispers before settling into the pillows, her breathing evening out.
The soft knock on the door comes just as Julianna adjusts the blanket around Rayne. Dr. Brennan steps inside, a clipboard in hand and a reassuring smile on her face. Earlier today I learned this is Fisher Hannigan’s wife. I would’ve never guessed that the keyboardist for Too Far From Grace would marry someone so different from him.
“Hey, glad to hear Rayne woke up,” she says. “I’ve reviewed her charts and her progress so far. The good news is that she’s responding well to the treatment. Her fever is coming down steadily, and her hydration levels are improving. We’re monitoring her from the nurses’ station.”
Julianna exhales audibly, her shoulders relaxing as the tension in her posture eases. “Thank you,” she says, her voice wavering slightly. “What happens next?”
“We’ll continue monitoring her closely tonight and adjust the treatment as needed. If all goes well, we’ll start transitioning her to oral medications tomorrow. For now, rest is the most important thing.”
“And long-term?” Julianna asks, her hands gripping the side of the bed rail. “Will there be any complications?”
“At this point, there’s no indication of long-term issues,” Dr. Brennan reassures her. “But we’ll schedule follow-up visits, and I’ll refer her to an allergist like we discussed earlier.”
“Thank you.” Julie sighs with relief.
Dr. Brennan turns to me. “I understand you’re staying here tonight as well?”
I glance at Julianna, then nod. “That’s the plan.”
The doctor looks thoughtful. “I’ll let the nurses know to bring in some accommodations for you both. The rooms in this unit are smaller, but I’ll see if we can get the insurance to approve a larger recovery room where you’ll have more space.”
Before she finishes speaking, I pull out my phone. “No need to wait,” I say, dialing a number. “I’ll take care of it.”
Julianna raises an eyebrow at me, but she doesn’t interrupt. By the time I finish speaking to Rowan, the room transfer is arranged. Dr. Brennan gives an approving nod before excusing herself.
“That was fast,” Julianna says.
“Let’s just say I’m good at getting things done,” I reply with a small smirk.
The transfer happens quickly. The new room is spacious, with a comfortable extra bed, a reclining chair, and enough space to breathe without bumping into furniture.
“This is . . . too much,” she says as she sits down on the edge of the cot, running her fingers over the blanket they’ve provided. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
“It’s not trouble,” I say, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms. “It’s what she needs. And you.”
Her gaze meets mine, and for a moment, we stay like that. The exhaustion in her eyes remains, but there’s also a softness, a quiet yearning.
“Thank you.” Her voice is quiet, almost hesitant. “For everything. I don’t know how to?—”
“You don’t have to,” I interrupt, stepping closer. “It’s not about owing me anything. I wanted to take care of you—of both of you.”
She opens her mouth to reply, but the words seem to catch in her throat. I reach out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. The gesture feels natural, instinctive. The way her eyes widen slightly, her lips parting, sends a jolt through me.
“Keane,” she whispers, barely audible, but it’s enough to make my pulse quicken.
I don’t think. I can’t. I lean in slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she tilts her face toward me, her breath warm against my skin, and I’m lost. When our lips finally meet, the world falls away—no hesitation, no second-guessing, just the two of us in this moment. The kiss begins soft, a careful exploration, but it shifts as her arms slide around my neck, pulling me closer. Her fingers curl against the back of my head, her touch sending shivers through me.
The kiss deepens, slow and purposeful, unraveling the weight of everything we’ve left unsaid. Her body presses against mine, and I can feel the unsteady rhythm of her breath, the way it catches slightly as I angle my head to take her in completely. She tastes like longing and hope, desperation mixed with a bittersweet ache and a flicker of vulnerability.
It’s not rushed or frantic—there’s no urgency, just an aching intensity. Every movement feels purposeful, like we’re speaking in a language only we can understand, the words etched into the way her lips move against mine. When she exhales, it’s not just a breath—it’s weeks of restraint slipping away, a quiet surrender to something neither of us can deny any longer.
When we finally pull back, my forehead rests against hers, and her eyes remain closed for a moment before fluttering open.
