Julia doesn’t break this time—she folds. Right into Brandon’s chest, right into the trembling relief clawing its way up her throat. The tears come fast, hot, overwhelming. Not grief. Not fear. Just pure, breath-stealing relief.
Brandon cups the back of her head, holding her as if he can shield her from every beeping monitor, every shadowed corner of the hospital room. “She’s okay,” he whispers into her hair. “She’s still here.”
“I thought—” Julia’s voice splinters. “I thought I’d lose her. I’m so tired of almost losing the people I love.”
“You’re not losing us,” Brandon murmurs. “Not now.”
From the bed, Mrs. Bailey clears her throat. “I’m literally right here, you two melodramatic lovebirds.”
Julia half-laughs, half-sobs, her knees still shaking.
An hour later, Mrs. Bailey is propped
