Page 50 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter forty-seven

"Stand By Me (Acoustic Live)" - NEEDTObrEATHE

Mia

Am I dying?

No.

If I were dying, there wouldn’t be so much pain.

It feels like I’m swimming through cement. Everything is heavy, even my thoughts.

I can’t open my eyes yet—those are heavy, too. But I can feel the world pressing in. Something beeps steadily nearby. Something else hums, low and constant. Can’t move. Can’t speak.

My chest aches with every breath, like there’s a boulder sitting on top of it. Like there are knives between my ribs.

My mouth is dry.

There’s something in my throat—plastic, invasive, and forcing me to breathe in rhythm. I want it out, but I don’t know how to ask when talking is impossible.

And then—warmth.

Another hand.

Fingers threaded through mine. Rough with calluses. Tracing slow, familiar circles against my palm.

I don’t have to open my eyes to know who it is.

I would know that touch anywhere.

Grayson.

He’s here.

The hurt fades, just for a moment, and I fight against the fog a little harder.

I want to see his face. To let him know that I’m here. I came. I almost made it. I had tried.

But I still have no control. My eyelids feel glued shut. The weight on my chest won’t lift. I’m trapped in some wicked state between sleep and survival.

Then I hear him.

The voice I’ve been wishing I could hear in every quiet, lonely moment since he left.

There it is.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he whispers. “It’s Gray, baby. You made it. I’m right here.”

Tears push behind my eyes. I’m not sure if they’re falling. But I feel them.

Can you hear me, Gray? I’m right here, too.

He keeps talking, soft and broken.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “Just like I said, I’ve always got you.”

I want to tell him it’s going to be okay.

That I love him. I never stopped.

But my brain won’t form the words.

“Please wake up, baby,” he pleads. “I’m not leaving. Not again. So please—wake up and let me see those beautiful green eyes of yours.”

Finally, something lifts. Not all at once, but the edges of the darkness start to fray. I feel the ache of my body, the pull of the tape across my skin, and notice the beeping of the monitors lining up with the rhythm of my heart.

Light.

Pale, dim, painful hospital light as I begin to blink my eyes open.

Everything is blurry as I try to push the tears away, but the first thing I see is him.

He’s real.

Curled in the chair pulled as close to my bed as he can get, head bowed, hand still wrapped around mine like it’s the only thing helping him hold on.

I want to speak.

I want to say hi or I love you or I’m sorry or don’t let go.

But this damn tube is still in my mouth, the words are stuck in my throat with it.

All I can do is try to squeeze his hand.

It works—barely. Just a flutter of fingers. But it’s enough.

His head snaps up and his eyes meet mine.

Then he stands up too fast and nearly knocks over the IV pole.

“Shit—sorry—you’re awake—fuck—hi—”

His voice cracks again as he scrambles to steady my IV and pull the chair even closer.

“Hi,” he breathes, sounding steadier this time as he gently brushes the hair away from my face and looks into my eyes. “God, baby. You’re awake. You came back.”

I try to smile, but I’m sure it doesn’t look the way I mean it to. Everything is stiff, and my face feels swollen. The tape on my skin itches. My stomach burns, though I don’t know why. I hate the tube in my throat even more now that I’m fully conscious.

I blink at him, hard and slow, trying to say everything that I can’t.

His eyes are already red and glassy, and he never lets go of my hand, as if he’s trying to keep me there with him.

“I really thought I wasn’t going to get to see you again,” he says softly. “If you had been gone before I could fix this… God, I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

I blink again.

Twice.

I’m here, baby. I stayed.

He seems to understand.

“I’m so sorry, Mia,” he whispers. “For everything. For pushing you away when I needed you most. For not calling. For not coming after you when I realized how badly I fucked up. I was scared, and stupid, and I thought—”

He stops himself, not wanting to overwhelm me with too much too soon, I guess.

I want to reach for him. Hold him like I used to. But all I can do is keep squeezing his hand and hope he feels everything I want to say.

He leans forward and presses his forehead against the back of my hand, his eyes closing tightly like he’s still praying.

“I really don’t want to take my eyes off of you,” he says, looking back up at me before stretching over to press the call button. “But I’m going to go make a few calls and let everyone know you’re awake, okay?”

I blink once.

Okay.

I don’t want him to go anywhere either, but I understand, so I let him.

He presses a soft kiss to my forehead before he leaves.

I close my eyes, allowing myself to feel everything all at once.

The pain.

The weight of it all.

The love.

And most importantly, that I’m not alone.

A few minutes after Grayson leaves, the door creaks open.

A nurse in pale blue scrubs with a perky ponytail and a kind face rolls in a cart with a computer and meds. I wish Grayson had come back with her, but know what happens next isn’t going to be particularly attractive.

“Miss Alexander,” she says softly. “I’m Kimberly.

I’m your ICU nurse for this shift. It’s good to see you awake.

” She moves her cart next to my bed and looks over the notes on her computer.

“Okay. Your vitals look great,” she says.

“I’m going to re-administer your pain meds and get that tube out of your throat now. Sound good?”

I blink in response—yes. Please. Get. It. Out.

She smiles gently. “You’ll feel some pressure, so try not to panic. It’ll be over in a second. Your throat will be sore for a bit, but that’s normal.”

She moves quickly, adjusting the machines and gently guiding me through each step. There’s a strange mix of panic, like she’d said, and relief when the tube is removed—fast and jarring, like ripping off a bandage from the inside.

I cough, hard, trying to catch my breath. She adjusts the angle of my bed so I can sit up a little more and offers me a cup with ice chips. I accept it as if they’re liquid gold.

“Don’t push yourself too much,” she advises. “You can talk, but your cords will be raw for a bit.”

I swallow a bit of melted ice to try to calm the fire in my throat.

“Th-thank you,” I say, my voice sounding like it’s covered in gravel.

She smiles again. “You’re welcome. I’ll let your visitors in now, okay? You’re not really supposed to have more than one at a time, but they’re pretty insistent.”

Visitors? Plural?

Before I can think too much about it, the door opens again—and in comes Rylee.

Followed by Johanna.

Now this is an unlikely duo if I’ve ever seen one.

I blink between the two of them, still groggy, still sore, but aware enough to realize how surreal it is that they’re willingly standing right next to each other.

Not bickering.

Not avoiding each other.

Just… here. Together. For me.

“If I’d known all I had to do to get you two to be civil was get in a major accident…” I rasp, my voice low but teasing.

Rylee lets out a breath that’s halfway to a sob. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, her face blotchy like she hasn’t slept in a week. She reaches my bedside in seconds and carefully wraps her arms around me, avoiding the wires and IVs like a pro.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Rylee says into my shoulder. “I’m already considering never letting you drive again.”

Johanna doesn’t look much better. Her eyes are red, too, but she even makes devastation and heartbreak look like a runway ad.

“You scared the shit out of all of us,” she says, settling into the chair her brother had just vacated. She crosses her arms like she needs the barrier. “I guess you could say it brings people together.” Then, quieter: “How could you not tell anyone you were coming?”

I can tell she’s hurt. That she feels like part of it is her fault.

“I wanted to make sure I was going to go through with it,” I admit softly, a little bit more of my voice returning to me with each word. “I didn’t want anyone to try to talk me into anything. I wanted to make the decision for myself.”

Rylee pulls another chair from the corner and sits down on the other side of the bed, her hand resting lightly on my arm.

“Do you want to know about the show?” she asks gently.

“Rylee, maybe not—” Johanna starts.

“No,” I interrupt. “I want to know. How was it? How was Gray?”

“He made it through,” Johanna says cautiously, obviously not wanting to upset me. “He didn’t give any indication to the crowd that he was about to lose it. But I knew—we knew—he was trying really hard not to fall apart in front of twenty thousand people.”

“He was singing to you, Mia,” Rylee adds. “Even if no one else knew it, we did. Every word. Every look into the crowd. You were in all of it.”

She squeezes my hand gently.

“And you were there,” she continues. “Not just in spirit. All the visuals—the promo materials, the intro reel—they used your work. Your photos. Your vision. Your fingerprints were all over that stage.”

I smile, but something catches in my chest. I’m not ready for the way that lands. It makes me feel like I haven't missed everything. Like part of me still made it, even when my body hadn’t.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “For telling me.”

Rylee smiles, and Johanna nods—her version of tenderness.

But I get the feeling there’s something else they aren’t telling me.

“Gray…” I start cautiously. “He’s coming back, right? He didn’t, like… realize he’s still mad and leave or something?”

Johanna actually laughs. “No, crazy. He’s coming back. He just had to run an errand.”

I look at Rylee. She can’t lie to save her life—especially not to me.

“He’s coming back!” she assures me with another smile.

Before I can question them further, my nurse returns and pokes her head through the door.