GRIFFIN
“Wake up, baby.” My lips brushed against her knuckles. “Why isn’t she waking up?”
“She lost a lot of blood,” Talia said.
“I can’t lose her.” I clutched Winn’s hand. “I can’t . . .”
The lump in my throat that had been there for three days felt like a noose around my neck.
“You should get some sleep.” Talia put her hand on my shoulder. “Get out of this chair and walk around at least.”
I shook my head. “I’m not leaving her.” “Griff—”
“I’m not leaving.”
Talia sighed. “Can I bring you anything?” “Coffee.”
“Okay.” She squeezed my shoulder, then slipped out of the room.
She wasn’t the only person who’d tried convincing me to go home. My parents. My siblings. Covie. The nurses. The doctors. Everyone was trying to get me to disconnect.
To let go of her hand.
Because there was a real chance that she wasn’t going to wake up. She hadn’t once since I’d carried her off Indigo Ridge.
“Come on, Winn. Wake up,” I whispered against her skin. It felt too cold, and she looked too pale in the bed. The gash on her head had been stitched, the blood cleaned from her face and hair. But her lips were this ugly gray shade. Her eyelids blue and her cheeks hollow.
“We have so much ahead of us. But I need you to wake up.”
In the days that I’d been here, I’d begged her countless times. Because maybe if she could just hear my voice . . .
“Find your way back to me. Please. You can’t leave me yet.”
There was so much I had to tell her. So much good she’d done that she deserved to celebrate.
“Winslow.” I closed my eyes. “I love you. We’ve got a lifetime together. But you have to wake up, baby. You have to wake up. Find your way back to me.”
She didn’t move.
My sister brought me coffee all morning.
Covie came in and sat quietly by my side through the afternoon. The nurse brought me a fresh blanket after midnight.
Winn didn’t move.
Until the sun began to rise on the horizon. Those beautiful blue eyes opened. Finally. And she found her way back.
