Page 57 of Fallen Empire

Her nails grazing lightly, barely there, but burning me alive with the truth of it.

That she was mine. That I was hers.

If this was all I had left, I’d stay here forever. Let the dreams take me. Let them bury me in the echo of her touch.

I shifted just slightly, angling my head to lean into her palm, needing one more second. One more ghost of a moment.

“...Mmm.” Her voice.

Only it wasn’t a dream.

It was real.

But it was strained. Pained.

My eyes flew open. I shot up straight in the chair, heart slamming against my ribs like it had been waiting for permission to beat again.

Her arm dropped at the sudden movement and she let out a sharp hiss as it hit the mattress where I’d been resting.

“Shit. Savannah, I’m sorry.”

I reached out, then froze—remembering the doctor’s words. Even my touch could hurt her now.

“I’m here,” I said gently. “Tell me what you need. What can I do?”

A breath escaped her. She was trying to speak, but it came out thin. Strained. Almost inaudible.

I stood, leaning closer. “What is it, baby?”

“Wa...ter.”

It sounded like she was speaking through a throat lined with glass.

“Yes. Of course. I’ll get you some—” I looked up. Ben was already at the door.

I hated this. Hated that I couldn’t hold her. Couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t do the one thing I needed to do—comfort her.

All I could do was sit. Watch. Give her whatever she asked for and pray it was enough.

Ben returned less than a minute later with a large plastic cup and a small white styrofoam one with a bendable straw sticking out. I rolled the tray table closer while he poured water from the larger container into the smaller.

He handed it off wordlessly.

“Here you go,” I whispered, gently placing the straw at her lips. “Drink some water, sweetheart.”

She took a slow breath, like she was gathering every last drop of strength for such a simple task. And I hated that, too.

That something as simple as drinking from a straw looked like it might take her out. That the girl who’d once walked into my life like a storm was now fighting just to lift her lips.

Savannah took long and needy sips, like someone who hadn’t tasted water in days. Because she hadn’t. Her throat worked with every pull, eyes fluttering shut as if even the act of swallowing took everything she had left.

Within seconds, the cup was empty.

I turned to refill it, but Ben’s voice cut in.

“Wait.”

“For what?”