She finally fell asleep.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t. She was burning up—skin hot, breath shallow—and it had taken me hours to get her to stop shaking. I’d wrapped every blanket I could find around her and kept my arms locked around her like she might float away if I let go.
And now? She was still. Soft breaths against my collarbone. Cheek pressed to my chest like she trusted me more than the bed itself.
The quiet was everything.
And then—
Creeeak.
The goddamn door opened.
Footsteps, uneven and loud. I didn’t even have to look. Jay.
“Cole!” he whisper-yelled. Like that ever worked. “Dude, I just found—”
A deep tremor pulsed from the floor under him. Just a nudge. A friendly reminder.
Jay stopped short.
“…Was that the ground or your attitude?”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t even lift my head. My hand stayed splayed over her spine, thumb rubbing circles through the blanket, keeping her breathing even. I was barely holding my shit together as it was.
“She’s finally sleeping,” I muttered, my voice low and dangerous. “You wake her up, and I swear to god—”
Jay raised both hands. “Okay, okay! I’ll whisper, alright? Chill.”
Another quake. This one was sharper. A hairline fracture danced beneath his feet, the ground groaning like it was deciding whether to split open or not.
Jay stumbled, one foot jerking back.
“Holy shit, man!”
My jaw clenched. “Say one more word, and I’ll drop you into the basement.”
He blinked. “We don’t have a basement—”
“I’ll make one.”
Jay held his hands even higher. “Cool. Got it. Message received. Love and respect to the sick girlfriend. Bye.”
The door clicked shut.
Finally, silence again.
She shifted in my arms but didn’t wake. Her fingers twitched around the hem of my shirt, like she didn’t want to lose contact. I tightened my hold, exhaled through my nose, and let the tension melt just a little.
“Sorry,” I whispered to her, brushing hair from her face. “Should’ve told him to fuck off earlier.”
But she was still sleeping. Peacefully.
And no one was going to mess with that. Not now. Not ever.