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17: Terrence.

When I wake up, I feel like I’m floating. There’s no pain, only disorientation.

But I’m not so buoyant that I can’t feel the new weight on my ring finger.

If only I could break through the drowsiness enough to look down.

Experimentally, I crack an eyelid—and the first thing I see is Benny.

He’s pacing in front of my hospital bed, his chest rapidly rising and falling.

His forehead is covered in a sheen of sweat, anxiety radiating from his strong body.

I must shift or make a noise, because suddenly he’s turning and lunging for the hospital bed, snatching up my hand and bringing it to his mouth. “Terrence. You’re awake.” He releases a shuddering exhale. “Thank God you’re awake.” He releases my hand long enough to press a button on the device attached to the bed. “I’m too old to be this stressed, angel. I’ve been on the verge of a heart attack for the last three hours. Don’t do this to me ever again. Please.” He leans down to press his lips to my forehead. “I thought I knew how much I lov
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