“I won’t get too attached. I promise. Don’t leave.” Her voice was small and ethereal like a little child, a cross between a whisper and a sob. He was able to make out her words, and they just about broke his heart. She was trying to reassure him as she lay so weak and tired.
It made him ashamed of himself, of his words that had hurt her so.
He stood up, wiggling his feet out of his shoes and pulled down her covers, slowly, softly. When he lifted her, she stirred again, opening her eyes to look up at him and murmur nonsensically before closing them again. He moved her deftly, like he’d done it a hundred times before, settling her on the right side of the bed. He pulled the covers back over her, and lay down on top of them beside her, on his side facing her, and put his arm over her gently.
“Jag är här, Katrin. I’m here,” he whispered. “Söta drömmar, Ӓlskling. Jag är här. Somnar, Ӓlskling, somnar.” Sweet dreams, sweetheart. I’m here. Sleep, sweetheart, sleep.
He murmured soothingly, lightly pushing her hair back from her temples, stroking the feather-light strands made silver in the moonlight. In her sleep, she turned toward the sound of his voice, and his heart filled until he thought it might burst out of his chest.
I will be an “us,” if that’s what it takes.
I will figure out how to do this, because I’m not losing you again.
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Then, pillowing his head on his flattened hands, he watched her face long into the night until he finally fell asleep.
***
The rising sun shining hot and bright on her eyelids made her stir from sleep, but she wasn’t ready to open her heavy eyes. As she roused herself from the cocoon of sleep, her body rebelled: one big ache. From the rawness of her throat to the muscles in her abdomen that felt like they’d taken a beating with boxing gloves. Even her shoulders and arms ached, and her belly too. She realized, with a cross between amusement and irritation, that she was hungry, but dreaded trying to keep something down.
She felt warm, not hot, thank God, but the covers were tucked especially tightly on her left side, and she could barely move her left arm from where it was almost trapped.
Erik. Her dreams came over her like a wave. Erik had come to her in her dreams, speaking to her tenderly in Swedish, promising he wouldn’t leave, stroking her head like a doting lover. The sweetest dreams she had ever had. The more she woke up, the more she lost them, even as she fought to hold onto them.
She had been so terribly lonesome for him in the days that followed their fight on Sunday night, so sad that he didn’t seem to be able to overcome his fears, so angry with herself that she had allowed her heart to care for him. But, mostly lonely; for his funny texts and the promise of his company on Sunday, for the safe way he made her feel, for the touch of his lips on hers, and his hands on her body. She had grieved all of it with a startling sorrow, not realizing how deeply he had touched her heart, how terribly she had come to care for him in such a short time.
Don’t leave, dreams. She struggled, clenching her eyes shut, trying to grasp onto them, slip back into them, if only to be with him again. Come back…
They were gone. The sunlight won the fight as her dreams slipped away, pockets of dreamy darkness swallowed by the greedy sun. She sighed, that old heaviness of loss filling her heart. But it wasn’t for her father or for Wade anymore…it was for Erik Lindstrom who didn’t care for her enough, whom she missed, whom she grieved, who seemed lost to her.
Her eyes opened tentatively at first, partially because she hadn’t opened them for a while, and partially because they had burned almost constantly during so much violent vomiting and heaving, but mostly because the sun was shining directly into her eyes and blinding her.
As a cloud passed in front of her window, her vision started to clear, and a hazy image of Erik’s sleeping face, just inches from hers, came into focus. She blinked in surprise. Have I fallen back to sleep? Am I dreaming again?
Disoriented, she leaned into him and felt his breath on her lips as he slept soundly beside her. He moved a little in his sleep, taking a deep breath and shifting his legs. Her drowsy, half-lidded eyes flew open. This was no dream! This was Erik. Here. Sleeping. In her bed.
“Erik?” Her heart was pounding.
Erik opened his eyes and looked at her, then closed them and a lazy smile spread out over his face. “Mmm. Morning, Ӓlskling.”
She shook him. “Erik. Wake up. What are you doing here?”
He rolled onto his back, throwing his arm over his eyes to block out the sun. “Came last night to talk. You were sick. I stayed.”
“I…I told you not to come.”
“You didn’t get my last text.” His eyes were still covered by his arm, which muffled his voice.
“What did it say?”
“It said we needed to talk. It said I was coming for us.”
“Us?” she asked, her heart picking up speed as she began to understand his meaning.
Erik lowered his arm and turned to meet her eyes. “Us.”
Us. She nodded back at him feeling happy, happy, happy, happy, happy.
***
Erik propped himself up too so they faced each other.
Katrin’s red, blotchy face was transformed by a grin that poked two huge craters in her crimson cheeks. “Are you, um, cold?”
