Avery:
He fell asleep hard—fast—like the second his body hit my bed, it gave up the fight. I didn’t blame it. He’d lost a lot of blood, and he’d been running on nothing but adrenaline. But I couldn’t sleep.
I lay beside him, wide-eyed in the dark, my palm on his chest just to make sure it rose and fell.
Every few minutes, I’d check. I’d catch myself holding my breath until I felt his move. Then I’d let mine out in a quiet, shaking puff.
I had almost lost him.
He didn’t even realize it. Cruz acted like it was just another night, another wound, another fight he’d walked away from. But I saw it. The way his hand trembled when he gripped mine. The gray cast to his skin before the blood started coming back.
He had pressed his mouth to mine like it might be his last chance.
And it very we
