Ninety three

I turned back to Rafe, my hand still clasped tightly in his limp grasp. Bending down, I pressed a tender kiss to his feverish forehead, silently willing him to wake up. To come back to me. I couldn't help but feel like I was losing him. Like he was slipping away from me while I stood helpless by his bedside.

I absentmindedly stroked his silky hair. I didn’t know how I knew but I had a feeling he would open his eyes soon. I glanced at the side mirror and registered ...