After Forever Read Free

days’ worth of stubble. He was handsome, in a rough and rugged way. Not beautiful, but ruggedly good-looking.
    I tore my eyes away and stared at my feet, embarrassed. Had I just been…checking out Ever’s husband? What was wrong with me?  
    I shot to my feet and turned away. “I should go—”
    “I want to see her,” he said at the same time.
    I halted. “She’s…she’s not in good shape, Cade.” I couldn’t look at him.
    “You think I care? I need—I need to see her.”  
    I sighed. “I’ll talk to the nurses.” I found a nurse at the desk, conveyed Cade’s request.
    The nurse, a woman in her mid-thirties with curly black hair and a quick, efficient manner, followed me into Cade’s room. “I’m not sure we should move you just yet, Mr. Monroe,” she said.  
    “Just…please. I need to see her. Please.” He sounded…pale. I wasn’t sure how that worked, but it was true. It was as if his voice was a bloodless husk of what it should be.
    The nurse took a deep breath and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
    Twenty minutes later, she unhooked various machines and wires, and hung them on the poles attached to his bed. She unlocked the wheels and pushed the bed out of the room, down the hallway, and to the bank of elevators. As the elevator took us to Ever’s floor, I sneaked another glance at Cade. He was white as a sheet, trembling, leaning back against the sheets with his eyes shut tight, as if against a spinning world.  
    Ever hadn’t moved, of course. She was on her back in the bed, trailing a maze of tubes. Eyes closed. Bruised and broken. It hurt to look at her, every single time. I watched Cade. His eyes were closed as the nurse moved his bed in next to Ever’s, locked the wheels, and left us alone. He didn’t open his eyes right away. I could see the war on his face, needing to see her but not wanting to look.
    Finally, his eyes slid open, and his gaze landed on Ever. He shuddered, and his features twisted. “Oh, god,” he choked. The fingers of his left hand curled into a fist, shaking violently as he white-knuckled the sheet.
    I looked away from him, then; the vulnerability in his eyes was far too private for me to witness.  
    He reached for her with his left hand but fell short. His hand rested on the metal railing of Ever’s bed, and he seemed to be straining, as if he needed simply to touch her hand. I leaned over him, far too close to him, smelling him, took Ever’s hand and lifted it so he could brush her knuckles with his fingers. He sighed, a wretched, trembling sound, as he touched her. I held on, leaning over him, my eyes closed to avoid seeing him from so near. Their beds were too close together for me to fit between, no space at the head, too far away at the foot. I was conscious of my hair brushing his chest, an intimacy too great for the strangers that we were.  
    When I couldn’t hold the position any longer, I laid Ever’s hand down on the bed and moved away, brushing my hair back over my ears. I was shaking from the bizarre tension of the moment, holding her hand so he could touch her.  
    “Thank you.” He whispered the words.
    “You’re welcome.”
    He just looked at her then. Watched her, his thoughts inscrutable. Unknowable, to me at least.  
    “Want some time alone with her?”  
    He turned his head to look at me. “Alone with her?”
    I shrugged. “To…to talk to her.” He blinked, as if not understanding the idea. “I talk to her. They say people in comas might be able to hear you. That it helps. Somehow. So I talk to her.”
    “Oh.” He returned his gaze to Ever. “Yeah.”
    I left the room, but not before I heard him clear his throat and start to speak, his voice barely audible. “Hey, Ever. It’s…it’s me. Caden. I’m here.” His voice trailed off, broke, and then he tried again. “I’m—I’m so—so sorry, baby. I should—I shouldn’t have—” But his voice broke again, and now I heard the choking, gasping sound of his