The Way Back

The Waiting

He cleared his throat and stepped off the elevator, trailing down the hall and into Stevie's dark room. He glanced at Sharon as she looked up from knitting. "Hey," he whispered as she shoved the items into her bag and stood. "Anything new?"

Sharon zipped her tote and slung it over her shoulder. "Not really. She was awake ten or fifteen minutes ago," she reported, stepping to him and squeezing his bicep. "I know she scared us both earlier, but she's better. She's not slurring her words, and she could move her arms."

Lindsey felt a lump in his throat recalling how Stevie had reacted to the loading dose of magnesium sulfate. Her muscles had drastically weakened, and she complained of being uncomfortably hot until she gave into exhaustion.

"I'm going to the house to check on the dogs and get some things for her. Lindsey, she'll get through this. You will too," she declared, plastering an optimistic smile on her face.

"Thanks, Sharon," he replied, glancing at the monitors and dropping into the chair. He slipped out of his shoes and scooted the chair closer to the bed, carefully propping his socked feet onto the cot. Lindsey folded his hands over his stomach and watched Stevie sleep. He listened to the hum of the upright fan and fixed his gaze on the long, blonde tresses dancing across her back. Lindsey shoved his feet under the blankets pooled at the foot of the bed and stifled a yawn. Within seconds, his eyes closed.

"Linds?" Stevie faintly spoke, groggy and disoriented. With a disheartened grunt, she tried to roll over, but her muscles were too relaxed. "Lindsey," she murmured, sticking her arm behind her and reaching for him.

"I'm here," he answered, rapidly sliding his feet off the bed and sitting up. Lindsey took her hand, careful of the IV line. "I'm here, baby," he whispered, grazing his lips across her knuckles.

Stevie weakly tugged at one of his curls, smiling at him when he met her eyes. "C'mere," she whispered.

He pointed to himself then to the bed, watching as she gently nodded her blonde head. "I don't know if Nurse Ratched will like this," Lindsey mumbled against her skin.

"I don't care," Stevie responded. She wasn't fond of the middle-aged nurse that had argued with her about changing into a hospital gown. "I'll win next time too," she stated, glancing down at her silk pajamas.

"Her name is Louise," Lindsey added, climbing in behind Stevie and pulling her close against his body.

"That's better," she said softly as a content sigh passed her lips.

He rested his chin on her shoulder and stared at her bare, beautiful face. His eyes coasted down her body to the fetal monitoring straps around her middle. Lindsey hesitated to disturb the placement of the bands and let his hand settle on her hip. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

"Like I've been hit by a bus," she answered honestly, frowning as her head throbbed. 

"Still hot?" Lindsey inquired and traced his fingertip along the line of the belt around her belly. "Your cheeks aren't as flushed."

Stevie shook her head. "Not like before," she admitted. For hours, her whole body felt like it was burning from the inside out. She didn't think the frigid Arctic Ocean would have cooled her.

"I'm sorry, Steph," he murmured and buried his face into the crook of her neck.

"It's not your fault, baby," she soothed, tenderly squeezing his fingers. She realized her words wouldn't change the way he felt, but she didn't blame him at all. The universe seemed to relish stacking events in an order to cause Lindsey to shoulder the culpability.

He nuzzled his face against her and shook his head. "It is my fault."

"It's not," Stevie repeated. "It's not your fault. It's not the Ferrari's fault. Don't blame yourself. You can blame me."