"Mom… don't go…"
Bill's hoarse whisper cracked with desperation. His fever-glazed eyes barely fluttered open, struggling against exhaustion. His fingers locked around her wrist in a tight, almost frantic grip. Through his hazy vision, Ruby's hair shimmered with a soft, pearlescent glow—so much like the mother in his memories that it made his chest ache.
Caught off guard, Ruby was yanked forward by his unexpected strength, stumbling straight into his arms. Her nose nearly brushed against his bare chest, which rose and fell with labored breaths. The crisp scent of mint and cedarwood, laced with the heat of his fever, wrapped around her. Her own heartbeat thundered in her ears, blending with the rolling storm outside. His fingertips absently brushed against her skin, the cool contrast again
