Page 117 of Anchor
Claire’s hand flew to her mouth, half laugh, half sob. Her other hand stayed locked in his.
“Tuck,” she breathed. “Tuck…”
But Tuck was already moving. He stumbled back from Reid’s bed like he’d been struck, then spun on his heel and bolted for the door. “I need Brady and Malek in 218 now! He’s waking up!”
His shoes pounded the tile as he ran down the hall, bellowing like he didn’t care who he startled. The door swung shut behind him.
And suddenly, it was quiet again. Just her and Reid. Claire turned, still holding Reid’s gaze. His eyelids fluttered, then stilled, open now, if only barely. His pupils tracked her in uneven little arcs, dazed but present.
The tears came all at once. They came in a hot, uncontrolled flood, pouring down her cheeks as her shoulders jerked forward with silent sobs. She didn’t bother to wipe them. She clung to his hand, forehead resting lightly against the mattress.
“You’re here,” she whispered. “Jesus, you’re really here.” Her chest felt like it had cracked open from the inside.
Four weeks of silence. Four weeks of monitors and whispered prayers and stillness so heavy, it had become its own kind of grief. And now his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes looked at her. Claire let all of it hit her. First the ache of nearly losing him and the terror of still maybe losing him pounded her chest. The impossible burden of being pregnant and alone, and now maybe not alone at all stirred within her.
Her hand slid over his again. His fingers didn’t tighten, but they didn’t let go. She didn’t move when the door opened again, just kept her forehead against his hand.
Tuck came in first, out of breath and flushed, pushing the door wide. Seth followed close behind with a portable monitor unit, and Sita Malek walked in last, gloves already on, eyes sharp.
Claire stood up fast, stepping back instinctively, not far, just out of their way. “He opened his eyes,” she rushed out. “Twice. He looked at me.”
Seth was already confirming vitals. “BP holding. Resp rate steady. Heart rate slightly elevated but stable.”
Sita moved to Reid’s side, calm and clinical. “Reid, I’m Dr. Malek. We’re going to ask you to do a few small things, okay? Just listen and try.”
Claire hovered just behind her, her fingers pressed to her lips.
Sita held up two fingers in Reid’s line of sight. “Reid, can you blink twice if you understand me?”
Blink.
Blink.
Claire let out a sob that wasn’t quite sound.
Seth cursed under his breath, grinning, though he didn’t look up. “That’s command-following.”
Tuck crossed his arms, his eyes glossy.
Sita didn’t let the momentum slow. “Reid, can you move your left hand?”
Claire watched the sheet. Then a flutter above the blanket. Reid’s fingers twitched, curled once, weak but real.
“Left-hand movement present,” Sita said, her tone composed but just barely. “Tracking eyes. Command response. He’s emerging.”
Seth looked over at Claire now. “He’s waking up.”
Claire nodded. She couldn’t speak and couldn’t move. She just watched as Reid’s eyes lifted again, and this time, they locked on hers. And that was everything.
Sound returned first.Not all at once. Not like flipping on a switch. It trickled in beeps, murmurs, voices tethered to faces he half knew and half forgot.
His throat burned. His chest ached. Not sharp. Not tearing. Just… heavy. Like something had sat on him for days and was only now easing off.
His eyelids lifted slowly and unevenly. The lights overhead blurred, then sharpened.
There were people. Figures were moving fast. The scent of antiseptic and warm cotton filled his nostrils.
But all of it faded when his gaze found her.She was standing at the foot of the bed.Claire. There was no mistaking it. It wasn’t a dream. Her eyes were wet. Her were hands trembling. But her face was solid and real.
