Chapter 83- Facing Daniel

Chapter 83- Facing Daniel

Room 152. Just around the corner.

Audrey stared at the bold black numbers affixed to the stark white door, her pulse hammering beneath her skin.

She had been directed here just moments ago by the nurse behind the desk, her polite instructions blending into the background noise of her tangled thoughts.

She swallowed hard. Breathe, Audrey.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. How was she supposed to do this? How was she supposed to step into that room, look Daniel in the eyes, and pretend that she wasn’t about to destroy him?

A soft voice pulled her from the edge of panic.

“Audrey.”

Gwen’s whisper barely broke the silence, but it was enough.

Audrey turned, blinking up at her, feeling her vision blur with unshed tears.

"Don’t think about what you have to do.” Gwen’s voice was gentle, firm. "This isn’t the time for that. Don’t think about Dad. Don’t think about his feelings. He can handle himself. Don’t worry about the vampires. That’s our job. This moment is about Daniel. Just you and Dan. Be yourself. Be the girl who loves and cares for him."

The words settled deep in her chest, grounding her.

She needed that validation. She needed someone to remind her that right now wasn’t about the impossible decision hanging over her—wasn’t about the pain waiting to unravel.

It was about Daniel.

Just Daniel.

She let out a shaky breath.

Guinevere stepped forward, pulling Audrey into a brief, firm embrace, her warmth momentarily easing the tension.

"Thank you," Audrey whispered as she pulled back, her smile small but genuine.

"I’ll give you space with him," Guinevere assured her. "Just call my name if you need me. I’ll hear you, even if I’m on the other side of the building. Okay?"

Audrey nodded.

"I’ll be in the nearest waiting room." Guinevere paused. "Take as much time as you need."

Another nod. Another quiet “thank you.”

Then—after what felt like an eternity—Audrey forced air into her lungs and knocked on the door before turning the knob.

The hospital room was bright, sterile, overwhelmingly white.

Two beds were positioned against opposite walls, each occupied by patients tethered to monitors by long cords. A privacy curtain hung between them, blocking the view of the second occupant, though the faint sound of snoring reached Audrey’s ears.

Her gaze settled on Daniel.

Sitting upright in the bed nearest the door, his dark brown hair was messily tousled, his face shadowed with scruff that was thickening into something closer to a beard.

The magazine in his lap fell away as his deep brown eyes met hers.

"Drey?"

His voice was thick with emotion, disbelief.

She pressed her lips together as she closed the door behind her and moved to his bedside. A simple plastic chair sat nearby, and she wasted no time lowering herself into it.

She reached for his hand—the one not hooked to the monitors—and wrapped both of hers around it.

She saw the way his heart rate spiked on the screen.

She ignored it.

She forced a smile. "Daniel, I’m—"

"What happened to you?"

His eyes had already traveled beyond her face, fixating on the bandage just above her eyebrow before falling to the bruises encircling her neck.

The accident hadn't caused those.

How could it have?

Unless her seatbelt had suddenly come alive and tried to strangle her.

He knew.

Her hands instinctively pulled away, fingers flying to cover the evidence left by the vampire’s attack. She looked away.

"I don’t want to talk about that right now," she murmured.

Dan’s expression softened. Concern replaced alarm.

He didn’t push.

He simply reached out—both hands extended, despite one still tethered to a cord—his arms open, inviting her to him.

"It’s okay, babe.”

She hesitated.

Then, slowly, she crawled onto the bed beside him, tucking herself against his body.

His arms encircled her, pulling her close.

"It’s okay," he repeated, his breath warm against her hair. "You don’t have to tell me right now. I’m just so relieved you’re here. When no one knew where you were—when no one had heard from you, i was terrified."

Her throat tightened.

She nodded against him, blinking rapidly against the heat rising behind her eyes.

Words failed her.

She felt relieved that he was alive, but she wasn’t sure if relief was what she deserved to feel.

Wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be here at all.

Closing her eyes, she let herself inhale deeply.

The familiar warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—comfort she had always found in his presence—wrapped around her.

"I know,” she mumbled. "I was worried about you too."

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. "I wasn’t able to call my mom until this morning. That’s when I found out where you were."

"How are you feeling?”

"Much better now that you’re here," Daniel said, rubbing her arm gently.

A sigh.

A kiss pressed to her forehead.

"And your head?" she asked.

"Better." His voice was light. "They wanted to keep me longer—just to be on the safe side.”

Audrey nodded. "That’s what my mom told me.”

Daniel exhaled, his grip tightening slightly.

"It could’ve been worse."

A pause.

"I could’ve lost you."

Her heart shattered.

A sob threatened to break through her throat, but she swallowed it down, burying her face into the thin blanket covering his lean frame.

Guilt flooded her, drowning her in waves of regret.

Had calling her mother been a mistake?

Had coming here been a mistake?

Should she have stayed lost?

Should she have let time slowly erase her existence—allowed everyone to assume the worst, to mourn her before they knew the truth?

Would that have been easier?

Would it have spared them the agony she was about to inflict?

She closed her eyes.

No.

They would have searched for her.

They would have spent every waking moment hoping that today—this day—would be the one they found her, alive or dead.

They wouldn’t have moved on.

They wouldn’t have let go.

And she—she—would have lived with the suffocating guilt of abandoning them for the rest of her life.

She couldn’t do that to them.

Even if breaking up with Daniel was going to hurt—destroy him—it was the right thing to do.

I’m sorry, Daniel, she thought, her breath shuddering against his chest. I’m so, so sorry.