Page 35 of Unearthed Dreams (Sable Point #3)

The ICU doctor’s footsteps were nearly silent on the polished floor, but I’d learned to recognize the specific rhythm of her approach over these endless weeks.

Dr. Ware—not Elena, who was back in the ER where she was needed—paused in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral as she took in our assembled group.

Emma’s hand squeezed my shoulder where I sat in my usual spot beside Charlie’s bed.Jay had his arm around his wife while, across from us, Jasper and Natalie huddled near the window. Elliotsat in the chair that doubled as a bed, with Tessa in his lap.

“Her intracranial pressure has stabilized,” Dr. Ware said, flipping through Charlie’s chart. “And the latest scan shows significant improvement. We think it’s time to begin reducing the sedation.”

I sucked in a breath and held it there, afraid to breathe too easily until my girl was finally awake. Five weeks of waiting, of watching machines breathe for her, of memorizing every freckle scattered across her nose... and now...

“How long?” Emma’s voice wavered slightly.

“It varies for each patient. Could be hours, could be days. But”—Dr. Ware smiled for the first time since I’d met her—“all her indicators are very positive.”

My throat felt too tight to speak. I focused on Charlie’s hand in mine, on the steady beep of monitors that had become my heartbeat these past weeks.

“Wish Chase was here,” Elliot said. “But...”

“He’s where he needs to be,” Jay finished, his voice gruff with emotion.

I nodded, unable to look away from Charlie’s face. The last update from Harbor Hall had been promising—Chase was through the worst of withdrawal, attending meetings, doing the work. One day at a time, they said. Just like the rest of us.

Dr. Ware moved efficiently around the bed, adjusting medications and explaining the process. I caught maybe every third word, too focused on searching for any sign of change in Charlie’s expression.

“Talk to her,” Dr. Ware encouraged as she finished. “Let her know you’re here. The familiar voices will help.”

She slipped out, leaving us in that liminal space between waiting and hoping. Emma started singing softly—some lullaby about apple trees that made Jay’s eyes go misty. Jasper told stories about their childhood, while Natalie and Tessa added commentary that had us all choking out wet laughs.

But I just held her hand and watched. Watched for any flutter of those eyelashes, any twitch of those fingers that wrote stories about dragons and magic and love conquering all.

“Come back to me, pretty girl,” I whispered against her knuckles.

Hours passed. The sun crept across the floor, painting shadows on the walls. Family members rotated in and out for coffee runs and bathroom breaks, but I stayed rooted to my spot, her small hand anchored in mine.

Then, just as the sunset started painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, I felt it. The slightest pressure against my palm. If I hadn’t spent weeks memorizing every detail of her, I might have missed it.

“Charlie?”

Her fingers twitched again, more definitely this time. Emma rushed to Charlie’s other side.

“Get the doctor,” someone said.

Everything in my world had narrowed to those delicate fingers and the face I’d mapped in my dreams.

Her eyelashes fluttered once, twice. Then, slowly, those stormy blue eyes I’d ached to see opened, fixing immediately on mine.

“Hey,” I managed, my voice cracking on that single syllable.

She couldn’t speak around the breathing tube. Tears blurred my vision as medical staff flooded the room, but I refused to look away. Not now. Not when my whole world was finally looking back at me.

Charlie’s eyes flicked from mine to her mom and her expression changed, transformed. Relief.

The medical team worked with practiced efficiency, explaining the extubation process. I had to step back, letting Emma take my place at Charlie’s side while they prepared to remove the breathing tube.

“You’ll feel some discomfort,” Dr. Ware explained to Charlie. “But try to stay relaxed and cough when I tell you to.”

Charlie’s eyes were wide, darting between the faces around her.

The fear in them made my chest ache. I wanted to push through the crowd of medical staff, to hold her hand and tell her everything would be okay.

But something in the way she looked at me earlier—or rather, the way she didn’t look at me—kept me rooted to the spot.

The procedure was quick. One moment of controlled coughing, and the tube was out. Charlie gasped, her hand flying to her throat.

“Ice chips,” Dr. Ware instructed, and a nurse appeared with a small cup.

“Here, sweetheart.” Emma’s voice trembled as she offered Charlie a spoonful. “Small sips.”

Charlie’s throat worked as she swallowed. Her gaze swept the room again, lingering on each family member before landing on me. There was no spark of recognition. No hint of the love that had shone in those eyes five weeks ago. Just polite confusion, like she was trying to place a stranger’s face.

“Mom?” Her voice was raw, barely above a whisper. “What happened?”

“You were in an accident, honey.” Emma smoothed Charlie’s hair back from her forehead. “On Chase’s motorcycle. Do you remember?”

Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Chase has a motorcycle?”

Dr. Ware stepped forward, pulling out a small light to check Charlie’s pupils .

“Charlie, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I...” She swallowed hard. “I was at college. Finals week. Shelby and Simon wanted me to stay for a party, but...” Her voice trailed off as she looked around the room again. “Why is everyone here? Where’s Chase?”

Five months. She’d lost five months. Every moment we’d shared, every secret smile, every whispered confession—gone.

I backed away from the bed, my legs threatening to give out.

Through the roaring in my ears, I heard Dr. Ware explaining how memory loss was common with traumatic brain injuries, how it might be temporary.

Might be.

Charlie’s eyes found me again, that same polite confusion in them. “Kai, right?”

The words hit harder than any punch I’d ever taken. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

What could I say?

I’m the man you love. The man you trusted with your manuscript, your body, your heart. The man who let you get on that motorcycle with your drunk brother because I was too much of a coward to stop you.

“Yeah,” Elliot said. “He runs Callaghan’s now. Billy’s bar.”

“Oh, right.” Charlie nodded slightly, then winced at the movement. “Good to see you again.”

Each polite, distant word was another knife in my chest. I managed something that might have been a nod before turning and walking out of the room. No one called after me. Maybe they understood. Or maybe they were too focused on Charlie to notice the way my world was crumbling around me.