Chapter 78

Cecilia

I woke to warmth and the steady beep of medical equipment.

For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was. Then the memories flooded back—the canyon, the fall, the cold water, Arthur's voice calling my name.

Arthur.

I turned my head and found him slumped in a chair beside my bed, his head resting on the mattress near my hip, his hand still holding mine. He looked exhausted, his hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes.

But he was here. He'd found me. Just like I knew he would.

I reached out with my free hand and ran my fingers through his hair, and he stirred immediately, his eyes opening to find mine.

"Hey," I said, my voice rough.

"Hey." He sat up quickly, his hand tightening on mine. "How are you feeling?"

I tried to smile. "Still alive. Thanks to you."

"Thanks to Jack," he corrected. "The kid who showed us where to find you. He's a hero."

"I'll have to thank him." I paused. "How long was I out?"

"About seven hours. The doctor said you needed rest."

"And you've been here the whole time?"

"Where else would I be?" He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I felt tears prick at my eyes again, and I blinked them back. Arthur brought my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles that made my heart ache in the best way.

The days blurred together after that. I spent most of my time in bed, my body demanding rest even when my mind wanted to be up and moving.

My wrist was in a proper cast now, and my leg was healing well enough, but the doctor had been firm—no strenuous activity for at least a week.

Arthur barely left my side. He worked from a laptop set up on the small desk in the corner, taking calls with his back to me so the noise wouldn't disturb my rest. At night, he'd climb into the narrow bed beside me, careful not to jostle my injuries, and hold me until I fell asleep.

On the third day, there was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," I called out, expecting Arthur to return with more water or another round of painkillers.

Instead, Alice stepped through the doorway, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. She was wearing one of those oversized hoodies that swallowed her small frame, and she looked so young, so fragile, that my heart immediately went out to her.

"Alice," I said, trying to sit up straighter. "Hi."

"I'm so sorry to bother you," she said quickly, her voice trembling. "I just—I needed to see you. To thank you."

"You don't have to thank me."

"Yes, I do." She took a few hesitant steps into the room, her hands twisting together. "You saved my life. If it weren't for me, you never would have—"

Her voice broke, and I held out my good hand. "Come here."

She crossed the room in a rush and sank onto the edge of the bed, and I pulled her into a gentle hug. She was shaking, her breath coming in short gasps, and I rubbed her back the way my grandmother used to do for me when I was upset.

"It's okay," I murmured. "You're okay. That's all that matters."

"I was so stupid," she whispered against my shoulder. She pulled back, wiping at her eyes. "I'm just glad you're okay. Ceci, how do you feel now?"

"Hey." I squeezed her hand. "I'm fine. A little banged up, but fine."

"Is healing. Really, Alice, I'm okay." I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "And I'm so, so glad you're okay too. That's what matters."

She nodded, tears streaming down her face, and I pulled her back into my arms. She cried for a long time, her whole body shaking with the force of it, and I just held her and let her get it all out. Sometimes that's all you can do—just be there, just hold on.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes were puffy but clearer. "Thank you," she said again. "For everything."

"Anytime," I said, and I meant it.

After Alice left, Arthur returned with lunch—some kind of soup that actually tasted pretty good—and I settled back against the pillows, feeling oddly content despite everything.

The night before we were supposed to leave the desert, Arthur disappeared after dinner.

"I need to go pick up your nutrition meals for tomorrow," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "The doctor wants you on a special diet for the next few days. I'll be back in an hour."

"Okay," I said, already feeling drowsy from the painkillers.

He grabbed his jacket but left his phone on the bedside table. I watched him go, then closed my eyes, intending to just rest for a minute.

I woke to the sound of his phone buzzing.

Groggily, I reached for it, thinking it might be important. The screen lit up with an incoming call from "Ethan Gray"—Arthur's assistant.

I picked up the call right away in case it was something urgent.

"Boss, the proposal site has been cleared," Ethan said immediately, his voice brisk and professional. "The drone company picked up their equipment this afternoon, and the catering deposit has been refunded. Everything's been cancelled as you requested."

My heart stopped. "Proposal?"

There was a long, terrible pause. When Ethan spoke again, his voice was strangled. "Miss Locke? Is that—oh God. I thought—"

"What proposal?" I asked, sitting up despite the protest from my injured leg.

"I—I can't—" He was stammering now, clearly panicking. "You need to ask Mr. Winston. I shouldn't have said anything. I'm so sorry, I thought you were—"

"Ethan, please."

"I really can't, Miss Locke. I'm sorry. Just—just ask him." The line went dead.

I sat there in the dim light of the medical facility, Arthur's phone still in my hand, my mind racing.

A proposal.

Arthur had been planning to propose. And he'd cancelled it. Because of me. Because I'd gotten hurt.