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Connor lifted a hand in the air when Sarah poked her head around the open door. He couldn’t speak, didn’t want to, for fear the magic of this moment would snap off and be lost forever.
He took a measured step away from Jenna, waited.
The noises emanating from her throat were weak, croaky, broken. They took effort, and he wasn’t sure Jenna knew what she was doing. Completely limp, the smallest of smiles on her lips, she looked peaceful despite the state of her body.
Sarah slipped into the room, silent as a shadow. Her voice barely a whisper. “Is she sedated?”
Connor shook his head.
“She’s humming.”
The grin split his face. He’d been worried about her vocal cords. The keening noise she’d made during her panic attack had been reassuring in a sense, but not like this. This smashed the lock off one of his boxes of stress and kicked it open. This offered so much hope, he didn’t know what to do with it, where to go from here.
“Have you tried talking to her?”
“No. It’s a beautiful moment. One I’d rather didn’t end.”
“Try. The impulsion is there, she’s relaxed.”
When he didn’t move, Sarah patted his arm. She whispered away, feet silent as she crossed to Jenna and balanced on the balls of her feet, arms folded on the edge of the table. She rested her hand on Jenna’s wrist. “Jenna, sweetheart?”
“Hmmm?”
There wasn’t a chair close enough to sit in. Connor’s knees dipped and he sat on the floor with a heavy thud. He saw Sarah’s concerned glance, took her frantic thumbs-up, then dropped his head on his knees and just breathed.
“Are you feeling okay, sweetheart? Warm enough? Happy?”
Jenna nodded sleepily. “Mmm-hmmm.”
The music, that blessed fucking song, started again. Connor had every intention of bronzing the damn thing and hanging it on the wall.
On the verge of laughing, tears in her eyes, Sarah grinned. “Okay, sweetheart. That’s good. Do you want me to get you anything?”
Jenna’s fingers worked against the material she held. She snuffled, wet her lips, sighed. “C-C-C…onn…or.”
It was the most mangled pronunciation of his name he’d ever heard, but to Connor, hearing it in Jenna’s voice was the most beautiful thing he could ever hope to hear. Cracked, stuttered and drawn-out, his name had meaning today.
Sarah celebrated with a subtle fist pump, tears streaming down her face. Shaking her head with the wonder of it, she pushed again. “Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t quite catch that.”
Jenna whimpered, obviously rising from the peaceful place capable of overriding ingrained training. “C-Connor.”
“I’m here, baby.” Fuck, his voice choked him. It took a second to gather his wits, steady himself against the sheer shock of hearing her talk, then he was beside her, his hand on her arm. “I’m right here.”
She smiled and opened her eyes. “Connor.”
“That’s right, baby.”
Things went distinctly awry from that point. Connor winced when her eyes popped wide. Her mouth moved as though tracing every word she’d said, and horror cast a translucent pallor over her skin. He caught her as she flailed, shoving up and off the table on the side opposite to him. Stretched, he had to let her go as gently as possible, unwilling to mark her further as her flight instincts kicked in.
“Sarah.”
The nurse was already at Jenna’s side, soothing her as she landed on her ass on the tiles. Hands clamped over her mouth, Jenna shook her head frantically, looking as though someone was going to lunge through the door and cut out her tongue.
That motherfucking training had kicked back in.
“Sweetheart, you’ve done nothing wrong. There’s no reason to freak out. No one’s going to hurt you or shout at you.” Sarah’s voice was low, calm, easy. She was the solid rock in a storm, rarely flustered. “Jenna, just take a deep breath. You’re starting to hyperventilate. Just breathe, sweetheart.”
