Chapter 293 - 300.

The first thing Christian noticed was the change in the monitor.

It was small.

So small that, under different circumstances, he might not have noticed it at all. The steady rhythm continued, interrupted only by a brief change in pace, a slight variation in the numbers displayed on the screen beside Kylie’s bed.

When the rhythm changed, he looked up.

Kylie’s fingers moved.

Christian went completely still.

For one absurd second, he thought he had imagined it. He had spent too many hours talking to an unconscious woman, telling her things he would ordinarily have said to her face, bargaining with a God he had never quite known how to bargain with.

He had imagined her squeezing his hand. He had imagined her opening her eyes.

He had imagined so many things that the possibility of another false alarm almost hurt more than he could bear.

Then her fingers moved again.

Christian stood so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor. "Blue?"

His voice came out rough.

He leaned over her, watching her face.

"Kylie?"

Her eyelids fluttered.

Christian forgot how to breathe.

She stirred. Her brow creased faintly. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Then, slowly, her eyes opened.

Christian stared at her.

For several seconds, she looked confused. Her gaze wandered across the ceiling, the pale walls, the IV line, the monitor, and finally the unfamiliar figure leaning over her bed.

Her eyes settled on his face.

She blinked twice. Then her expression changed. "Christian?"

He made a sound that was almost a laugh and almost something else. "Oh, thank God."

He reached for her hand, catching himself just before he gripped it too tightly.

"Hey, sweetheart. Hey."

Kylie stared at him.

Her eyes moved over his face as though she were checking that every part of him was still there.

He looked exhausted, and frightened.

"Hi," she whispered.

Christian shut his eyes.

That one word nearly undid him.

He lowered his head over their joined hands, pressing his lips against her knuckles. "Hi, baby."

Kylie watched him.

She remembered the ship.

Not all of it. There were fragments.

The metallic smell of the corridors. The violent shudder beneath her feet. Christian’s hand wrapped around hers. His voice cutting through the noise. The cold air rushing against her face when they reached the edge of the ship.

Then the water.

The shock of it.

The darkness.

She remembered being afraid. She remembered Christian looking at her. And she remembered telling him she loved him.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Did we—"

Her voice failed.

Christian lifted his head immediately.

"Don’t try to talk too much yet, okay? The doctor said your throat might be sore, and you’ve been asleep for a while."

She swallowed. "How long?"

"Long enough for me to develop several new personality disorders."

A tiny, startled breath escaped her.

It was not quite a laugh, but Christian would have taken anything. A laugh, a complaint, an insult about his face.

Anything that sounded like Kylie.

He smiled, but it was unsteady. "There’s my girl."

She tried to smile back. It lasted less than a second.

Her gaze dropped to their hands.

"Christian."

"I’m here."

"Did we get off the ship?"

"Yes."

"Did you—"

"We got off."

Her fingers tightened weakly around his. "Did you get hurt?"

He stared at her. Of all the things she could have asked him, that was the one she chose.

She had been shot. She had lost blood. She had undergone surgery. She had spent days unconscious while he sat beside her bed and watched the machines do what he could not.

And the first thing she wanted to know was whether he had been hurt.

Christian brought her hand to his mouth again.

"I’m okay."

She looked unconvinced. "Christian."

"I’m okay, Blue."

"You’re lying."

A real laugh escaped him then, short and broken.

"I’m serious."

"I know you are." He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. "I got a few bruises. Nothing that needs your attention."

Her gaze searched his face.

"Did anyone die?"

The question was quiet.

Christian’s smile faded.

He did not want to lie to her. Not about something like this.

"Yes."

Her face changed.

He could see the memories beginning to arrange themselves in her mind, the missing pieces connecting one by one.

"The ship?"

He nodded.

"The explosion happened after we got away. Noah’s uncle and Ethan from Mrs. Hayes adubtion didn’t make it."

Kylie went very still.

She stared at him for a moment, then looked toward the ceiling.

"Ethan." She whispered.

Christian waited.

She closed her eyes briefly.

Christian rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. "You don’t have to think about any of that right now."

"But I want to know."

"I know."

"Did we—" She swallowed, wincing faintly. "Did we get everybody?"

Christian’s jaw tightened.

He knew what she meant.

Did they find everyone? Did the people who came for her survive? Did anyone else get left behind?

"We got you out," he said gently. "That’s what matters right now."

She looked at him again. "That’s not what I asked."

"No." He exhaled. "It isn’t."

He leaned closer, careful not to disturb her IV.

"Some of the men made it back. Some didn’t. The people who were with us are being accounted for. Adrian is alive. Emilia is alive. Selena is alive."

Kylie’s eyes widened at the last two names.

"Emilia?"

"She’s okay."

"Mrs. Hayes?"

"She’s okay too."

Her relief was immediate.

Christian watched it move across her face, and something inside him ached.

Even now.

Even after everything. Kylie could barely lift her head, and she was still worried about everyone else.

He raised her hand to his cheek.

"Can we agree that, for the next five minutes, you don’t have to take care of anybody?"

She gave him a weak look. "I wasn’t taking care of anybody."

Her eyes moved slowly over his face again.

He knew that look.

She was noticing the things she had not noticed at first. The way his shoulders remained tense even while he sat beside her. The way his fingers never loosened around hers for more than a second. The way he kept glancing at her face as though he expected her eyes to close again if he looked away.

Her own fingers shifted against his palm. "How long have you been here?"

"Most of the time."

"Christian."

He sighed. "Since they brought you out of surgery."

"How long was I in surgery?"

"A few hours."

"And after?"

He hesitated.

Kylie watched him. "Tell me."

He looked down at their hands.

"The first day was difficult. You lost a lot of blood. The doctors were worried about complications, and they wanted to monitor you closely."

Her fingers tightened. "But I’m okay?"