Page 96 of Never Lost

“Yeah.”

Like many times before, I curled my body in the empty space beside his. Silly girl, I’d once dared to hope I’d have all the time in the world to do this. That we’d be able to drink each other in, in silence, in peace. But ifthiswas the only peace we would ever know—well. I could forge us an altar of stone.

And as softly as anyone could, my lips brushed his ear, and I released the name into it.

As for that name? I’d never planned on telling him.

But I’d never planned on a lot of things.

He didn’t respond. His eyes had closed, his chest rising and falling more shallowly with every breath. I counted the seconds, wondering on which one it would stop.

Time.

But like freedom, what was time?

I closed my eyes and joined our hands, though he couldn’t entwine or squeeze anymore. But it didn’t matter. I had strength enough.

So far, all of his worst moments he’d suffered alone. And even though I couldn’t change anything else, now I could change that.

So I whispered it again—over and over, a thousand times—though I couldn’t even be sure what he really heard, or really felt, in the seconds before his hand went limp and fell away.

And after that, I couldn’t even whisper anymore.

Only breathe.

In breath, my existence coalesced. No other sound, no other sensation. Darkness. Silence.

Breath. In and?—

Wait a minute. What was I breathing, anyway?

And just like that, each lost sensation returned. The grit under my back. The burning in my lungs. The distant wail of—yes—sirens.

Andlight. Not a bulb.Light.

I opened my eyes. I could barely see, the haze still swallowing even the faintest outlines of our surroundings.

With a weak burst of energy, I scrambled toward the light, which filtered in through a pinprick gap in the stone. To my astonishment, a light tap was all it took to topple it away, a weak wave all it took to get attention.

Then I turned.

His hand still lay next to mine, limp and lifeless.

I brushed my fingers against his face. His skin was cool.

Blind, numb, I could only think to shake him and say it again: the name he’d asked me to choose. And then again. First a whisper, then louder, a raw, keening incantation. As if that would make any goddamn difference in the face of?—

But he’dsaid. He’dsaid. Maybe?—

The crunch of boots on rocks yanked me back into an even sharper reality, loud and painful. Voices shouted orders I couldn’t understand. I just clutched him tighter until other hands descended, pulling me away, hoisting my arms, prying up my fingers.

“Check the boy.”

I understoodthat.

One of two female EMTs, brown hair pulled back in a stiff bun, brushed aside a layer of filth off him and bent down, examining him.

“He’s still breathing. Get?—”