Page 163 of We Drank the Dawn

My heart thumped harder. Oh, I wanted to be close to him.

I took a step toward the couch and the floor gave a loud creak of protest. Peter’s eyes fluttered open and he sat up, pulling the AirPods out of his ears. “Sarah?”

An unbidden smile curled into my cheeks.

He wasn’t missing anything anymore.

Peter’s counselors at the rehabilitation center said that most people who lost their sight would eventually get in tune with their surroundings by using their other senses. Some people were able to make the transition very quickly, but others took months. Some took years.

Apparently, Peter was in the years camp.

But, a smile hung, plastered on my face, because Peter had arrived. What was it he’d said about me last night? That he knew I was tired because I was dragging my feet? I shook my head, amazed.

“Good morning,” I said, my voice raspy.

His smile broke free. “More like good afternoon.”

“No way. What time is it?”

He woke up his phone screen and turned it so I could read the time.

“2:53 p.m.?! I can’t believe I slept all day.”

Peter stood. “I’m glad you slept. How are you feeling?”

I took stock, noting how heavy my limbs felt. My throat was scratchy, my nose burned, and my eyes stung. After the initial rush of excitement faded away, I realized I was still so tired I could hardly stand straight. “Honestly? Exhausted.”

“Maybe you need some coffee?” Peter easily strode around the coffee table and tapped a button on the coffee pot, which instantly started the brew. As if he’d had it waiting for me.

Then he moved to a basket on the counter. “I fell asleep last night on the couch down here—hope that’s okay. I didn’t even change my clothes. I woke up around six o’clock this morning and went up to the bunkhouse to shower and change and then came back down to find all this food.”

He set it on the coffee table, revealing an appetizing array of packaged items. Instantly, I recognized my hunger. Saliva pooled in my mouth.

“Hollie put some fruit, yogurt, and cheese danish in the fridge. Then there’s granola bars, pretzels, oatmeal packs, and trail mix. And she said we can come up to the big house for a hot meal at any point, and she’ll make whatever we want.”

“That’s kind of her.” I picked through the basket, selecting a trail mix with chocolate chips. “Danish and yogurt sounds perfect though.”

He smiled and opened the fridge, taking out two yogurt parfaits in glass jars. He set them on the coffee table with two spoons then lined two paper plates with cuts of danish, clusters of grapes, and sliced strawberries. His movements were rushy, eager. He dropped a couple things and had to search around once or twice to find what he needed, but a soft smile stayed on his face, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been waiting for this moment, excited to do these things for me. So I didn’t offer to help. I just watched as I chewed almonds and chocolate.

When was the last time Peter did something for me?

I wished I hadn’t asked myself that question because the answer made my nose sting and my eyes tingle.

When the coffee pot beeped, he grabbed mugs from the cabinet, and slowly poured us both a cup. Then he added cream to mine. Just enough, too.

His eyes were bright when he turned to face me, easing the mugs down to the coffee table. “I’m not near the edge, am I?”

“No where close.” My words wavered, and I was surprised by the emotion lacing them.

“How’s your cream look?” The bottom of the mugs gently kissed the table.

“Perfect.” But my voice caught over the word. “Thank you—so much.” I tried to sound peppy, but Peter’s brow instantly furrowed. He’d heard the catch in my voice, too.

“You okay?” He asked. The couch lurched, leather squeaking as he sat down next to me.

“I’m fine.” I waved him off but it was no use.

“Sarah—”