“I’m here,” he whispered, moving his cheek over her brow, letting her feel him, breathe in his presence. “I’m here, Dais. I love you.”
She made a small sound—a single, feathery hum in her throat. The fingers in his fluttered, then squeezed weakly. She moved her head in the direction of his voice, her shoulders twisting, turning into him. She put her nose against his neck. Inhaled. Again the little sound in her throat. And she was still.
Erik put his hand on her face, fingertips sliding into her hair.
He didn’t pat or caress her. It would make her crazy right now. She wouldn’t be able to think.
He rested his head on hers and held her still.
Whisper Together
Detective Khoury emerged from Will’s room chuckling, saying Will was too zonked out on morphine for any kind of conversation. Khoury would be back in the morning. Lucky was allowed in then, and Erik could go too, if he kept it brief.
Much as Daisy had, Will turned his head and leaned into Lucky’s neck, inhaling with a palpable relief. Erik found himself smiling at the primitive impulse. As if a sedated person were robbed of all senses except smell. They hadn’t the strength to open eyes or reach out. They were merely looking for the soothing scent of a loved one.
Erik leaned and rested his face close to Will’s, letting him sense his presence. Will’s head turned. The eyes fluttered and managed to open. They rolled a little drunkenly, focused a couple seconds on Erik, then the lids dropped again.
“Whazup, asshole,” Will whispered thickly. His mouth curved up a little. He looked quite pleased with himself. Then his features melted into neutrality and he was asleep again.
It was eight o’clock then, and the ICU’s visiting hours ended, although family would be allowed a single hour later, from ten to eleven. Erik, Lucky and the Biancos left the hospital and went to the nearby Sheraton where David had been quite busy.
Erik never knew if David charmed someone’s pants off or if it was simply an act of benevolence on the part of the hotel. But management upgraded them to the presidential suite, with its three bedrooms and three baths and every amenity they could possibly need. David himself had driven back to Lancaster and gathered clean clothes for Erik and Lucky.
“You go digging through my underwear drawer, Alto?” Lucky asked.
“Oh, hell yeah,” he said. “I know you—you’ll be locking Will’s door before they get the IV out of him. I figured you’d want your nice panties.”
Lucky went to swat his arm, but the swat became a caress and she kissed his face tenderly. “You’re a prince, Dave.”
He was a prince. Erik barely recognized his gentle kindness. David, always so moody and difficult, was here for him, a beacon in the fog, beaming a purposeful, dependable light.
Erik got into the shower, turning it as hot as he could stand. More blood swirled in the water around his feet. He used the entire little bottle of shampoo and wore the soap down to a sliver.
A brisk knock on the door and David’s voice floated over the curtain.
“You want tea?”
“Yeah. Two b—”
“Two bags and milk. Jesus, Fish, I know how you take your fucking tea.” The door slammed. Erik shook his head and had to smile. When he finally emerged, pink and dripping, the tea was on the vanity and the bloody clothes taken away. Erik didn’t know where—he never saw them again. He dressed in the clothes David had brought. He retrieved his wallet and keys and other effects from the side table, then he picked up the penny. Stared at it a long time.