Addison’s pacing was starting to make you dizzy.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Hands in her hair, then on her hips, then pressed against her face as if she could push the panic back inside. Her eyes were red, swollen from the tears she wasn’t even trying to hide anymore.

“She should be stable by now,” Addison muttered, barely breathing the words. “She should be waking up.”

“She lost a lot of blood, Addison,” you reminded her gently, but that only seemed to make it worse.

Addison let out a choked noise, turning away from you. “I know that.”

You took a slow step closer. “Then you know this isn’t your fault.”

She let out a sharp breath, like you’d just shoved a knife into her ribs. Then she spun around, her eyes wild with grief.

“I’m the one who cut into her. I’m the one who could barely keep up with the bleeding. I—I watched her crash, and all I could think was, ‘Oh my God, I’m losing her.’” Addison’s voice cracked, and she shook her head violently. “If I had just—if I had been faster, or—”

“Stop.” You grabbed her arms before she could spiral any further, gripping her tightly. “You did everything right. She’s still here because of you.”

Addison’s lip trembled, her entire body shaking under your touch. “But what if she doesn’t wake up?”

You softened, your grip shifting to thread your fingers through hers. “Then we’ll deal with it together. But right now? She’s still here, Addison. And so are you.”

She inhaled sharply, like she hadn’t breathed properly since the surgery ended. And when her knees nearly buckled, you caught her, holding her against you as she finally let go, sobbing into your shoulder.

And you held her, because you knew she would’ve done the same for you.