POV: Chloe
The moment I walked back into Ethan’s room, I felt the guilt hit me like a wall.
He was thrashing against the sheets, damp with sweat, his mismatched eyes glassy and unfocused. And the second my hand found his, something in him released.
Not fully, but enough that his breathing slowed and his grip on the bed rail loosened and the monitors stopped their frantic climbing.
“I’m here,” I said quietly.
“I’m right here.” I pulled the chair close and reached for the damp cloth the nurse had left on the side table, pressing it gently against his forehead, his temples, the back of his neck where the skin was hot to the touch.
He turned his face toward my hand like a plant turning toward light, and something about that helpless, involuntary movement made my chest ache.
I should
