Damon’s unique scent of Christmas trees, cedar wood, and something darker, spicier that was all man flooded his nose.

For the life of him, Micah couldn’t comprehend it.

It was like a dream – so much so, Micah nearly convinced himself that he had died, and this was merely his idea of heaven. But he hurt too much to be dead.

More likely, he was in shock, or his brain had been deprived of oxygen for so long that it was having trouble powering back on – maybe a mix of the two.

“Please, tesoro, say something.”

Damon seemed to be growing more frantic the longer Micah remained unresponsive, so he forced his throat to unstick. Remembering what he’d wished for – what he’d prayed for – in the basement, Micah reached up with his good hand and grasped the wrist of one of the hands holding his face. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, the words like shards of glass against the tender insides of his throat, but a balm to his soul. “I love you.”

Damon’s face crumpled, and he said something back, but forcing out the words had taken the last of Micah’s energy. Damon was here now, so he knew it was safe to finally succumb to the inviting lull of oblivion that still hovered over him, pulling at his eyelids and making him feel tired – like he hadn’t slept in days.

(To be fair, he hadn’t.)

There was the stormy blue of Damon’s irises, and then nothing but black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Micah’s thoughts were groggy and sluggish, almost like they were underwater – like he was underwater – desperately swimming against the tide that wanted to keep him firmly in the grips of unconsciousness.

Why was that thought so familiar?

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Really, if it wasn’t for the incessant beeping, he would probably have been swallowed back under. Which would have been just fine with Micah. He felt like he’d slept too long and not nearly long enough all at once – and everyone knew the only cure for that was more sleep.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Where the hell was it coming from? It wasn’t his phone – unless Tessa had changed his settings without telling him (again).

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Not loud enough to be the fire alarm. (Not that they were up to code in his apartment building, anyway.)

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Maybe the microwave? Had he fallen asleep with a tv dinner in there again?

Honestly, it took Micah far longer than it should have to finally muster up the energy to pry open his eyes and realize he was in a hospital. From there, it was easy enough to deduce that the annoying beeping was coming from the patient monitor set up near the head of his cot. There were tubes in his nose, and his right arm was in a sling.