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The ride up feels like an eternity, each floor lighting up at a glacial pace. Bouncing on my toes, I will the metal box to go faster.
At last, it dings open, and I'm off again, navigating the maze of the third floor until I spot his room number.
Right there. 312.
But just as I'm about to push the door open, a nurse steps in my way, holding up a hand as if to fend off a linebacker.
"Miss, I'm sorry, but you can't go in just yet," she says in a tone that brooks no argument. My heart sinks, but only for a moment before I hear it.
A voice. A deep one that sends shivers of relief through the column of my spine.
"Gabi?"
The nurse seems to sense the connection, and her firm stance softens...just enough.
Edging past her, I peek through the tiny window on the door, eyes searching until they find him.
It's Jacob.
Battered and bruised but alive.
He's propped up on the bed, tubes, and wires snaking around him like an overgrown garden. His sandy brown hair is disheveled, and there are dark circles under his sea-blue eyes that weren't there before.
But he's talking. Laughing, even. And as I watch him interact with another nurse inside, my heart feels lighter than it has in days.
I can't help but smile as I push open the door, ignoring the nurse's huff of protest.
"Jacob," I say softly, crossing to his bedside.
He looks up at me, blue eyes lighting up with recognition and something else...gratitude?
"Gabi...you came." His voice is rough around the edges, but oh so undeniably strong. “Nice of you to drop by. Was starting to think you'd forgotten me."
I roll my eyes even as my throat tightens. "Forgotten you? Please, your snoring's still ringing in my ears."
Jacob chuckles, which quickly turns into a grimace of pain. "Ahh, I see we're starting with the insults. Excellent choice."
I step closer, my eyes taking in every bruise, every inch of his pale skin. "Just trying to make you feel at home. Though, you could've picked a less dramatic way to get my attention."
"Instead of being a Prince Charming, I've ended up as a drama queen. Figures."
I pull up a chair and sit by his bedside, careful not to disturb the maze of medical devices around him. "So, you planning to make this a habit? Because I really don't have the stomach for hospital visits."
"I'll try to stage future accidents more carefully."
"Good." I reach out to take his hand. "Because these gowns? Not your color."
The warmth of his skin, battered as it is, reassures me more than any words could. We're here. We're together.
And somehow, despite everything, we're still finding ways to make each other laugh.
My eyes blur with tears, and I squeeze his hand tighter. "Jacob, I..."
He furrows his brow, concern immediately replacing his sarcastic smile. "Gabi, what's going on? You're starting to worry me."
A shaky breath escapes me, and the tears spill over, streaming down my cheeks unchecked.
He reaches out with his free hand, brushing away my tears with gentle, clumsy fingers.
