"So you took my advice and decided to focus on trying to sort things out with her?"
I chuckle.
"My aunt and uncle came to see me yesterday, and I mentioned what Jess had said. My aunt spoke to her and then she turned up herethis morning. We both agreed to talk things out and we went on a walk outside, hence the wheelchair and the reason I wasn't in here," I tell her, smoothing my hand down the length of her arm.
"I'm glad that you two are going to sort things out."
"Yeah, me too."
We fall back into silence for a few minutes until she wiggles away from me to peer up at me.
Being this close to her, the golden specks in her eyes stand out against the dark brown that surrounds them.
"You ready to tell me what was wrong?" I ask, swiping my thumb against her damp cheek.
She takes a deep breath and sits up, leaving me cold and aching for her to be close to me again.
"It's stupid really—"
"Let's not start with that," I say, interrupting her. "No matter what happened, I guarantee it wasn't stupid. You're entitled to feel things, darling. Start again, but don't belittle yourself and invalidate your feelings."
She looks at me, shock evident on her face at my response and the corners of her lips tilt up as she nods.
"I walked in here, and when I saw your bed empty, my first thought was that you'd made a miraculous recovery and been discharged, but obviously that was an unlikely event."
My teeth clamp down on my lower lip to contain the laugh bubbling up inside of me because according to Markus, that wouldn't be such a ridiculous thought with how well I seem to be coping with the recovery process so far.
"When I saw all of your stuff still here, and the unmade bed, I just, I don't know… I spiralled. I couldn't help it. I immediately assumed the worst, and I thought that something had happened to you. I kept thinking that you'd been taken and were probably being hurt in some way, and I knew that if that was the truth, then it'd be my fault."
She blows out a deep breath and fidgets beside me.
"I was in such a panic, and I couldn't think logically. There was so many horrible scenarios swarming around inside my mind, and it was just, it was—"
"Crippling?"
She looks up at me, tears swimming in her eyes.
"Yeah," she sighs. "It was crippling. I knew deep down that you were most likely fine, but I can never stop myself from automatically assuming something terrible. I guess I'm just used to experiencing the worst, so now it's always what I expect."
The torment on her face has a stabbing sensation running through my chest, and her words break my heart.
"You were worried about me?"
She nods, and glances away from me as a flush creeps up her neck.
"So, is this the part where you admit that I'm your favourite patient?" I ask, hoping to lighten the mood and put a smile back on her face.
My goal is achieved when she rolls her eyes and swats at me lightly with her hand while a smile breaks across her face.
"Don't flatter yourself, King."
"Come on, you can admit it, darling. I promise I won't tell anyone."
She laughs and shakes her head.
"Yes, you are," she admits. "But it's not like you have much competition considering I only have one other patient and he's still comatose."
"See, I knew it! I mean, it was obvious anyway. I'm always the favourite."
