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Scorching Arizona sun and dry, dusty air hit Chris the second she steps out of the courthouse. Her nerves are on fire for Paloma, one of the girls from the safe house desperately fighting deportation before a judge and jury who, Chris is sure, have no idea even half of what she’s gone through.
Her lawyer’s inside with her, Chris just an advocate and a comforting face, as everyone takes every second of the fifteen-minute recess to collect themselves, trading the heat of the courtroom for ice-cold water and blessed air conditioning.
It’s a missed call from an unknown number half an hour ago that brings her outside, squinting as blinding afternoon light reflects off the surrounding buildings. She taps her fingers on her bare arm as it rings, her jacket left inside, and checks her watch.
“Los Angeles Harbor Hospital. This is Mya speaking, how can I direct your call?”
All the air in Chris’s lungs is pushed out into a harsh cough the second Mya opens her mouth. Her mind takes off at a million miles an hour with what-ifs and worst case scenarios, only brought back down to the red rock around her when Mya speaks again.
“Hello? Can I help you?”
“Yeah, yes!” Chris shouts, a pleading edge to her tone as she scrambles for something to make Mya stay on the line. Bringing a hand to her forehead, she tells herself to take a breath.
“My name is Chris Alonso—Christina—I missed a call from you about half an hour ago?”
The only thing that keeps her standing is Mya’s calm voice and easy directions.
“Okay. Can you spell your last name and confirm the phone number for me?”
Chris’s voice shakes as she does, the second hand on her watch seemingly moving faster and slower than it ever has as the heat in the air makes waves in front of her. Her lip burns where she bites it until she tastes iron.
“It looks like we called you as the emergency contact of James Street.”
Mya keeps talking, but Chris can’t stop her brain from taking off like a horse from underneath her, leaving her in frozen shock.
“I’m, I’m sorry,” she interrupts. “Can you repeat that?”
She hears pity in Mya’s tone that would make her jaw clench if she wasn’t so fucking terrified of whatever she’s about to say.
“James was—”
“Jim! Sorry, I—”
“No worries,” Mya says, unbothered like she’s an angel with infinite patience. “Jim was brought in via ambulance after collapsing in the hallway of an apartment complex. A neighbor saw and called 911, but didn’t have any other information on who we could call. You're his emergency contact on file.”
While Chris appreciates the details, all she wants to know is if Street’s okay. To knock away this all-encompassing fear threatening to choke her.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
She hears the clack of Mya typing and the world stretches out before her until she answers.
“From what I can see, he has appendicitis. He’s in surgery now to remove it. Are you able to come?”
“I, no,” Chris rushes, every possible option running through her head. Street needs her, but so does Paloma. It’ll take hours to get back, regardless of how she goes. Tears spring to her eyes that she struggles to keep at bay when she speaks again.
“I’m out of state. Let me call some people, I’ll make sure someone gets there. How long should the surgery take?”
“About an hour. They took him straight back upon arrival, so likely another 45 minutes, and then it’ll be a bit before he’s in his recovery room for observation”
Heart skipping a beat, Chris squeezes her eyes shut to block out the world and give herself a moment to think. She presses her thumb and forefinger hard into her forehead, nodding again as she grasps around for a plan.
“Okay. Yeah, let me call. Someone will be there soon. Thank you. You’ll call me when he’s out?”
“I’ll make a note to do that, yes. Do you have any other questions?”
“No. Thank you, Mya.”
The line goes dead and Chris presses her phone into her stomach to keep her lungs from jumping out of her body. Gasps escape until she falls heavy onto a wooden bench and shoves her head between her knees.
Straightening back up, she unlocks her phone and dials out of muscle memory the one person she knows will be able to help.
“Aunt Helena?” she says, sounding more frantic than she hopes, before Helena even says hello.
“Chrissy? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Shaking her head, she whimpers as the world clamps tighter around her and the sun burns hotter.
“It’s Street.” She eventually gets out, voice high with fear. Helena feels her heart stop, just for a second, then takes the deepest breath she can to keep her voice even.
“What happened, Sweetheart?”
Chris wishes she could lean into the familiar comfort of her Aunt’s voice and trust that she’ll make it all be okay, but she can’t stop picturing Street collapsing and someone slicing through his stomach. When she tries to speak, tears start rolling faster down her face.
“Chrissy? I’m right here. Tell me what’s going on.” Helena says, cutting through enough of Chris’s fear that she gets it all out.
“He’s in the hospital because of his appendix. The hospital called me. A neighbor called 911 when he collapsed. He’s in surgery now and will be for an hour, but I can’t get out of here until at least 6 tonight, and then it’s another 7 hours back.”
Taking in everything Chris says and the desperation that lines every single word, Helena shushes her gently.
“What hospital, Sweetheart?”
“LA Harbor.” She barely whispers.
“I’m leaving right now. I’ll let you know as soon as I get there and as soon as I know anything else.”
Helena’s as steady as ever and Chris feels her heart finally start to settle down in knowing that Street won’t be alone. Sniffling, she says okay and takes another deep breath. Keys jangle in the background of the call.
“I know this is scary,” Helena says, and Chris remembers the day after her mom died, when Tomas was officially diagnosed, and all the other times Helena’s said that as the world caved in on itself. Strong enough for all of them until the sun came back up. “But this happens to a lot of people. He’s in good hands, try to remember that. There’s nothing you could’ve done if you were here.”
Nodding like Helena was in front of her, she wipes away her tears and clears her throat, trusting her legs to hold her up again.
“Thank you, Aunt Helena. Text me, please? I can check my phone, just not take calls inside.”
“Of course. You’ll know something as soon as I do. I love you, Chrissy.”
“I love you, too.”
Helena shivers and pulls her cardigan tighter as the LA summer gives way to the cool air conditioning of the hospital lobby. People mill about, some on their phones and others holding children slung across their laps, asleep. Winding around nurses and family, she makes her way to the brunette in purple scrubs sitting at the desk, her name tag reading Mya.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
“Hello. I’m here to see Jim Street?”
Mya’s bright smile turns to the computer as she taps some keys and scans the new page.
“What’s your name and relationship to the patient?”
The words come out before Helena can consider them, fueled by a need to protect Chris and Street both.
“Helena Alonso. I’m his mother-in-law. His mother passed.”
Mya’s smile turns sympathetic, and Helena holds the look on her face to hide how her stomach turns at the actual thought of Street’s mother.
“I’m sorry to hear that. He’s still in surgery, but should be done relatively soon. Once he’s settled and in recovery, someone will escort you up.”
With a nod, she thanks Mya and finds a seat in-between a mother rocking her infant and the cold wall. She shoots off a text to Chris that she made it, and waits.
“Family of Jim Street? I’m Dr. Holly.”
At his name, Helena stands and offers a quick wave to the smiling baby before crossing the small space. Her knuckles grip the leather strap of her purse so hard they turn white.
“Yes.” She tries to maintain her composure. “How is he?”
“He’s good,” Doctor Holly says, and she can breathe again.
“Luckily, his appendix hadn’t yet burst like we initially feared. He’ll be out of here tomorrow night if all stays as is. There’s antibiotics he’ll need to take at home, and get a lot of rest, but he’ll make a full recovery.”
It’s the relief Helena needs and she smiles. The sound of their footsteps echoing overtakes the blood rushing in her ears for the first time since she picked up Chris’s call.
“I’m so glad to hear that.”
“He’ll be out for a while until the anesthesia wears off, but you’re more than welcome to sit with him.”
Nodding, Helena follows Doctor Holly into the elevator and up to Street’s room. As expected he’s asleep, a few wires resting around him, and the doctor leaves her with the instruction to hit the call button if she needs anything.
She quietly pulls a chair to his bedside and rests one of her hands on his while her other pulls her phone from her bag. The steadiness of the machines is music to her ears, even though his hand is cooler than normal. His skin is calloused, like Chris’s, and she lets herself relax into it.
In recovery now, still asleep. Doing as well as can be expected. It’s going to be okay.
Chris assured, she shifts to call Sarzo. He promises to come by after work, and to let him know sooner if anything changes. The room is silent save the low buzz emanating from the machines. It reminds Helena of all the time she’s spent in rooms like this for one reason or another, and a gentle hum starts to fall from her lips out of habit. She runs through every song she knows, some better than others, hoping that maybe Street can hear her and they’ll soothe him as much as they always have her.
She’s not sure how much time has passed when the soft ringing of her phone finds her, Tomas’s photo lighting up the screen. For a moment, she remembers all the times she sat in a hospital room with him, and she has to take a deep breath before she answers to remind herself that everyone is okay.
“Hi, Honey, what’s up?”
“Hey, Mom. Nothing. Mirabel and I just got home. I was just wondering where you are?”
“I’m at the hospital with Jim. Everything is fine, but Chris called and he needed an emergency appendectomy. I’m going to stay as long as they’ll let me, so you two can order in for dinner.”
Helena hears the catch in Tomas’s breathing and reassures him that Street’s fine. It doesn’t stop him from asking to come to the hospital to see that for himself.
“After Mirabel’s done with her homework and the two of you have eaten something.” She negotiates, hand absentmindedly running through Street’s hair.
“I’ll text you when we’re on our way.”
It’s another hour before Sarzo’s done filing away finalized plans and bills and gets to the hospital. He texts Helena that he’s on his way up before he’s through the front door, giving the woman at the front an easy smile.
“I’m here for Jim Street.”
“Name?”
“Sarzo Alonso.”
“You’re his father-in-law?”
Squinting, Sarzo sees the woman read the confusion on his face, and she smiles small.
“You have the same last name as Helena.”
Understanding washes over him like a spring rain, and he tilts his head back, smirking.
“Ah, I see. Yes. I can go up?”
“Room 2904.”
Sarzo thanks her once more and winds his way through the maze of hallways until he’s standing in front of a thick wooden door. He knocks lightly twice before entering on soft feet to not disturb either one of them. Helena looks at him with tired relief in her eyes. He presses a kiss to her forehead and pulls up another chair.
“How’s he doing?” Sarzo asks, tracing over the relaxed lines of Street’s face and the slight tension in Helena’s. He slips his hand into hers and gives her a soft squeeze.
“Good. He shifted around a bit, but not too much. The nurse said it’s normal.”
“That’s good. Chrissy knows?”
“Yeah,” Helena breathes out. “She’s driving back up tonight, should be leaving in about an hour. I told her to text before she does, and pull over if she needs to.”
Sarzo nods and Helena slips back into her easy hum out of habit. Smiling at the scene, he keeps his thumb running constantly over her knuckles until Street groans and his fingers twitch.
“Jim?” Helena says, her free hand running through his hair as his brows furrow in pain. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Sarzo joins the chorus, intermittently telling Street that he’s fine and nothing is wrong.
It’s a struggle. His limbs feel like lead, and there’s an undercurrent of pain but it’s fuzzy and disconcerting. The heavy weight of darkness lifts off him slowly, bringing him from the void back to reality, and he blinks his eyes open. Above him, Helena’s blurry face takes its time coming into focus, a world of questions floating around him that he struggles to catch.
“What… happened?” He croaks, the hand not in Sarzo’s feeling around his torso.
“Your appendix, Sweetheart. Do you remember, you collapsed? Someone at your apartment called 911. They got you all fixed up.”
Helena’s voice is as calm as chamomile and Street nods. He’d trust anything that she says, and he lets the warmth of that and that he’s finally not in any pain overtake any tension starting to creep into his muscles.
“Chris?” He murmurs.
“She’s in Arizona.” Helena fills in, looking back at Sarzo for reassurance. “She’ll be back later tonight. They called her, and she called me. We’re staying right here until they discharge you.”
Sarzo squeezes his hand once more and then gets him a water bottle to clear away the feeling of cottonmouth. A thought crosses Street’s mind to blame the drugs, but even in his hazy state, he knows that’s a laughable excuse for the tears that rush into his eyes over the two people with him. Shushing him, Helena wipes them away with the back of her thumb. They keep coming, his ability to control his emotions the last thing his body’s prioritizing.
It’s the sound of another, lighter voice floating through the air that brings the tears to a close.
“Uncle Street!” Mirabel’s voice rings out clear as a bell. Her backpack slides to the floor, Tomas carefully moving it to the side with his foot, as she walks to the end of the bed and looks at her parents for guidance. Sarzo pulls her onto his lap.
“Are you okay?” She asks, concern in her young eyes over the tears in Street’s. He laughs for a second until it turns into a pained cough, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it would if he were alone, and he nods once it’s passed.
“I will be. A lot of really great people helped me today. Not as much as you being here is, though,” Street teases, reaching out a tired hand to tickle the air in front of her stomach.
Mirabel giggles and Helena smiles at the scene, turning around to Tomas and raising an eyebrow.
“You said you’d text.”
“I know,” he breathes out and runs a hand through his hair. “But as soon as her homework was done, we wanted to get over here. Had to tell the person at the front we were his in-laws for them to let us up.” He rolls his eyes but is given away in how they sparkle. She says she understands.
“Do me a favor and stay with them so I can call Chrissy and find something to drink? And text Luca to let him know what’s going on? I have no idea if the team knows.”
“Yeah,” Tomas says, hugging Helena tightly, “yeah. Take your time. Chris worries as much as you do. We’ll be here.”
As she leaves, Helena rolls her eyes at Tomas but overhears Street asking Mirabel about her Tuesday spelling test, and her body settles.
The sun is beginning to set and Helena looks over the peaches and purples as she dials Chris, who picks up before the end of the first ring.
“How’s he doing? Still awake and okay?” She gets out before Helena even opens her mouth.
“Shh,” Helena starts, her heart twinging, “he’s fine. We’re all here, they’re going to let me and Sarzo stay tonight, and he’ll hopefully be able to go home tomorrow. Tomas is texting Luca so that your team’s aware.”
Chris sighs in relief, her hands going still for the first time in hours. Her heart skips at the idea that it’s still her team, even after almost two years.
“Thank you,” Chris says again. “Thank you so much for being there. Him being alone—”
“You’re welcome, Chrissy.” Helena cuts her off, wiping away a tear. “But you don’t need to thank us, and neither does he. He’s family.”
Voice catching through thick tears, Chris says okay, afraid adding much more will result in her vision blurring too much to drive.
“I’m leaving in 10. If anything changes…”
“You’ll be the first to know, Sweetheart. This is hard, but you need to drive safely. We’ve got Jim.”
Agreeing without much fight, she promises she will and closes her car door. The leather of her well-worn seat molds to her body as she types in the hospital’s address and sets her map to the fastest route.
Confusion flashes across Helena’s face when she returns to see the bed empty. Sarzo points behind her, and Street’s just turning around at the end of the short hallway when she looks. He smiles at her, still unable to believe how he got so lucky with Chris’s family when his own was so terrible. How Helena relaxes at seeing him up and walking makes getting back to his room that much easier.
Satisfied, Doctor Holly tells them that everything looks as good as they can hope, and she’s comfortable releasing Street tomorrow if nothing changes.
“You’ll stay with us,” Sarzo says, seeing the hesitation that flashes across Street’s face at going to an empty apartment like he did after his liver surgery. “As long as you and Chrissy need to.”
“You’re sure?” Street asks, and Sarzo nods without an ounce of doubt in his eyes. Tapping her pen twice on the chart, Doctor Holly hangs it back off the end of the bed, smiling.
“You’ve got great in-laws, Mr. Street, take them up on their offer. Get some rest.”
The door swings shut and Street fixes them all with a questioning look as her words settle. Helena clears her throat to break the silence, sheepish.
“I didn’t know if they’d let me up if I wasn’t legally family.”
He smirks at the answer, sure it’s something he would’ve done, and lets out a soft thank you as a wave of exhaustion hits him. Helena gives him a smile and runs a hand through his hair again as he lies back onto the pillows.
“You need to sleep. Sarzo and I will stay with you tonight.”
“The team will be here tomorrow,” Tomas cuts in, unzipping Mirabel’s backpack to hand her a hoodie. “Luca said as early as they’ll let them in.”
“Sounds like them,” Street says as more love seeps into him and makes a home through his veins. He reaches out for gentle hugs from Tomas and Mirabel, promising her that he’ll be all better in no time. A groan escapes as he twists to get the remote from the bedside table and hand it to Tomas. “I don’t think I’m going to be much entertainment, and I’ve slept through Chris blasting The Cure as she cleans.”
The second time he comes to is much easier, albeit still foggy. Mirabel’s asleep in Tomas’s lap while he scrolls on his phone. He looks up at the sound of movement and stands, taking a step closer to the bed.
“Hey. How are you feeling?”
“Tired.” Street admits, although he can’t help but grin at the pair. “Where’re Helena and Sarzo?”
“Sarzo’s in the bathroom, and Helena ran to get food. I’ll probably head out with this one once they’re back. You need anything?”
Shaking his head, Street says no. Tomas sits back down, readjusts Mirabel, and smirks, just visible through the dimmed lights.
“What?”
“Chris is going to give you a new one for not going to the doctor sooner, you know?”
A pang runs through his heart that Street just manages to let taper off without too much damage. He thinks of her face and it’s better than any IV. Exhaling, he shakes his head.
“She’d be one to talk. I wanted to take her to the doctor for a week when she first got sick. We didn’t go until her fever was 104 and it already turned into pneumonia. Scared me to death.”
“Sounds like Chris.” Tomas agrees with an eye roll. “She should be here in like three more hours.”
“Oh, yay!” Street tries to exclaim, but it comes out as an exhausted whisper. His attention falls to the soft click of the door opening and Sarzo entering with Helena in tow, now in comfy clothes and with two water bottles and a fast food bag in hand. They smile at him, warming him through, as his eyes trace over all of them and emotion overcomes him once more. Luckily, Tomas standing and shrugging Mirabel’s backpack on the shoulder she’s not draped on takes the focus away from him.
“I’ll text you when we’re home.” Tomas whispers, exchanging hugs with his parents and clapping a soft hand on Street’s shoulder. “Feel better, man. We’ll see you soon.”
He agrees, but the pull of sleep makes the scene start to blur into a barrage of figures and sound before they’re even out the door. It settles again once it’s just the three of them. His fingers twitch when he realizes, and then Helena’s hand is in his again.
“You guys don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.” Street says with a grimace, looking around at the uncomfortable hospital furniture he’s had more than enough experience sleeping in. Helena pats his hand, clearly unconvinced.
“That’s something Christina would say, and we’d refuse to leave her, too. We’ll be here as long as you need us to be.”
Sarzo agrees, laughing softly while he crosses from the window to a chair by the bed, and tells him again the guest room will be waiting for him at home.
“Trust me, nothing will have you feeling better faster than our family chicken soup.”
Street mumbles something incomprehensible through the haze of medicine and fatigue. He’s almost asleep when a memory comes to him, something he isn’t sure is real, and he squeezes Helena’s hand with as much strength as he has. His voice is groggy when it reaches her.
“Were you humming earlier?”
Breath catching, Helena shares a look with Sarzo in her periphery and nods, and then realizes he can’t see her in the dark. She lets go of his hand to cradle the side of his face.
“I was, Sweetheart. Why?”
Another vague image comes to him, grainy like an old film he can’t completely recall. Lying on a torn couch, coughing his lungs up as a TV show he can’t remember the name of played, not nearly enough to cover the sound of his parents screaming in the other room. It’s a loneliness that was so familiar to him, but it feels foreign now, and the corners of his lips turn up.
“Will you do it again?”
He falls asleep to her melodies, Sarzo’s hand warm in his.
Chris is wired when she finally pulls into a parking spot at the hospital. Her nerves are on the fritz to see Street for herself, despite the tens of texts she has from her family that he’s doing okay. Her feet hit the pavement and she stumbles as her body reorients itself and her eyes take in the bright light emanating from the hospital signs. She tells herself to take deep breaths as she heads to the sliding glass doors.
The buzzing fluorescents against the dreary off-white walls feel like a different planet compared to Arizona and the countless miles of highway. Panic creeps up her throat that she swallows down to approach the desk, each of her footsteps echoing back in her ears in the thick silence.
“Hi, how can I help you?” The woman at the desk says, clearly not Mya from the raspiness of her voice. Chris feels as small as she did on the phone, fingers of one hand picking at the cuticles of the other.
“I’m here to see Jim Street.”
She taps at something on the computer screen that Chris can’t see, then swings her green eyes upwards, mouth set in an unreadable expression.
“Your name?”
“Chris Alonso. Christina.”
She types something else and then gives her a tired smile that, for the first time, eases some of the tension in her shoulders.
“Take a seat for me, I’ll have someone down here to escort you in a few minutes.”
Nodding, Chris finds a cracked leather chair and texts Helena that she should be up in a few. Her fingers tap uneven rhythms on her thigh as the clock ticks away. Heart jumping around her chest in impatience, she’s about to ask for an update when the door finally opens and another woman, a young brunette in deep purple scrubs, walks in.
“Christina? I can take you up.”
Her apologies and explanations get lost in the ringing of Chris’s ears as they walk through a maze of corridors before coming to an elevator. It’s a quick ride and another left turn before the nurse knocks softly and pushes a thick wooden door open. Immediately, her family and Street’s gentle voices become audible, and she almost pushes the nurse out of the way to get inside, but she takes another step forward.
“Jim, your wife is here.” The nurse says with a smile. Chris stops in her tracks but doesn’t have the wherewithal to process it completely in the wake of being able to lay her eyes on him. She adds something about getting some rest and calling if they need anything and then she’s gone, leaving Chris in the doorway as the hallway light floods in. Street thinks it makes her look like an angel.
“Hey, Sweetie,” Sarzo says to break the fragile silence. The doorknob is cold underneath her hand and she pulls the door shut to let it go. Tears come to her eyes as she keeps herself from diving into Street’s arms, as much as she wants to.
“Hey,” she says, distracted. Her feet carry her to the chair that Helena’s standing up from and she feels their hands on her back when she sits down. She wraps her arms around Street best she can and buries her face in his hair to breathe him in, hot tears rolling down her face that she’s hardly kept at bay since leaving the courthouse. His lips vibrate against her collarbone as he whispers that he’s okay and he loves her. Pulling back, she wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath, interlocking their fingers.
“I love you, too.” She whispers with a gentle smile. Questions swim in her mind about a million things but she doesn’t ask them yet, too worn from the drive and elated to see that he’s okay to decipher them into something manageable. “You should rest. I’ll be right here.”
Like he was just waiting to see her, Street falls back asleep almost instantly. Leaving their hands together, Chris turns to Helena and Sarzo and gives them another watery smile. They lean down to hug her and she burrows into their sides.
“Everything’s okay, Chrissy,” Helena promises in a soft whisper, taking the seat next to Chris while Sarzo pulls up another.
“You’ve got to be exhausted too,” Sarzo adds. “If you want to catch some sleep on the couch, we’re not going anywhere.”
His words make her aware of her own bone-deep exhaustion, but she shakes her head as her eyes fall back to Street’s face, relaxed in sleep like she’s so used to, like she loves waking up to. She slips her hand from Helena’s to brush it through his hair. A soft sigh escapes him and she wishes she’d gotten there sooner.
“I don’t think I can let him out of my sight yet. Thank you guys for coming, for staying.”
Helena and Sarzo share a knowing look, and Sarzo presses a kiss to the top of Chris’s head when he stands to take the empty couch for a few hours. The room goes silent save the low beeps and buzzing of the machines and their breathing. Leaning into the familiar warmth of Helena’s touch helps her relax even more. A few hours pass before the comfort sinks in and she realizes he’s safe, enough to lie her own head next to his shoulder and drift off herself. Just as she slips into sleep, she hears her family muttering in soft, even tones, and the weight of someone’s jacket over her shoulders.
The LA sun is just starting to peak through the blinds when Street comes to, stiff and sore but light-years better than yesterday. He recognizes the weight of Chris’s hand in his before he opens his eyes, so much easier than the previous day, and grins when he sees her hair fanned over the thin hospital mattress. Scanning the room, his eyes meet Sarzo’s, then fall to the styrofoam cup in his hand.
“Morning, Jim,” he says, careful not to wake Chris or Helena where she sleeps on the couch. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” Street exhales. Unconsciously, his hand slides out of Chris’s to rest on her head and lightly brush his thumb across her forehead. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Of course. You’re family.” Sarzo insists, a lilt in his tone. Street opens his mouth to reply, but a small groan cuts off the words; it’s fine with him because he’s sure the mix of gratitude and affection just would’ve gotten stuck in his throat. Both their gazes fall to Chris as she slowly wakes up. She leans more into his touch and starts to turn her head, body creaking as she straightens up.
She’s not sure where she is at first. The room spins around her, disorienting, until she sees him, eyes clear and smiling, and it all comes rushing back to her. Snapping up the rest of the way faster than she should sends a jolt of pain through the crick in her neck but she doesn’t care.
“Morning, Sunshine,” Street tries, and it fills Chris with enough adoration to burst at the seams except in the new light of day and with clarity in his hazel eyes, her worries from yesterday rush back at full force.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone you weren’t feeling well? Or go to the doctor sooner? If you’d gotten into the apartment and been alone—”
Her voice is louder than she means it to be and behind her she hears someone else start to shift, but she keeps looking at him. Guilt floods his irises as his hand crawls over the sheets to rest on top of hers. The touch sends sparks flying down her spine, and her words halt in favor of a soft gasp.
“I’m sorry,” he starts, squeezing her hand. “Figured it was just an injury from boxing with Rocker. You know how he can get. I’m sorry, but everything’s okay.”
She wants to demand more information about what was going on in his head. A reason for every second that he didn’t call her. But there’s an undeniable truth in his words and, for better or worse, she does know how Rocker can get, and Street’s not too far off in connecting the dots there. Sighing, she nods. Her eyes flick to his lips and, even with her Aunt and Uncle looking on, can’t resist leaning down for a quick kiss. She focuses on the feeling of their hands when she pulls back, her eyes never leaving his face and her voice quiet.
“I can’t lose you.”
Street tilts his head as the confession lands like angel dust on his skin and seeps into his bloodstream. He opens his arms again in a silent decision that he needs her closer, and Chris quickly finds her way into them. She smells like home even though she’s been gone almost a week. Over her shoulder, his eyes barely flick up to see Helena and Sarzo talking between themselves in hushed tones. He loves them, too, but his heart connects directly to Chris’s where their chests are pressed together, and he holds her another inch closer, as close as he physically can with the wires and bandages.
“You won’t.” He promises.
Neither says anything, allowing the moment for the air to settle and their bones to find home in the other’s. He cradles her face and kisses her again before she sits back in the chair. She pulls Sarzo’s jacket tighter around her as a chill overtakes her, but is content to just sit and run her thumb over his knuckles. With her fears assuaged, another vague memory floats by. It’s fuzzy, and with how tired she was from the drive, she wouldn’t be surprised if it’s something her mind misheard, but her stomach tugs at her to ask. Clearing her throat brings everyone’s attention to her, like she knows they’re all 3 conspirators.
“What’s this about me being your wife?” She asks, dragging her eyes around the room though her tone isn’t angry.
Street crinkles his nose, since his own memories of the night before are weak at best. He shrugs.
“That was me,” Helena fills in. “I didn’t know if they’d let me see him if we weren’t legally family, so I told the nurse I was his mother-in-law.”
“They assumed about me and your cousins. Easier to let them believe it.” Sarzo adds, a sly grin on his face.
Huffing a laugh, Chris shakes her head. Her hair falls in front of her face and she brushes it away, not subtly clearing away another tear when she does.
“You guys are something else.” She starts, then softens. They take the other chairs along the bed again. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Sweetheart.” Helena kisses her forehead. “We already told Jim, but you’ll stay with us as long as you need. I can watch the Safe House, too, for a bit.”
Chris steals a glance at Street to find his eyes misty, and her heart grows in her chest until there’s no room for air. Tears line her eyes, too.
“Thank you,” she says, clearly for much more than just this offer. For how they immediately welcomed Street with no questions asked, and have continued to help her give him everything he deserves. Sarzo winks and Helena nods. A new weight settles on her chest, and she looks back at Street, voice low.
“We could, you know. Get married.”
The fine line between drug-induced fog and visceral awareness makes it hard for him to do anything other than drop his jaw open. Once the words process, his face twists into a frown, and she balks.
“What’s wrong?” She starts to pull her hand away, but he catches it, recovering himself.
“I planned this whole thing for how I was going to ask you. I’m just waiting for the ring.”
Chris is stunned into the same silence he was in a minute ago. Taking her in with more certainty in his eyes, Street tugs at her hand until their lips meet. He pulls back just enough for her to feel his lips curl into a smile against hers, letting the moment linger.
“So you want to?” He murmurs when they part. She bites her lip and nods, eyes getting lost in the swirls of greens and browns that make up his.
“Yeah.” Her body seems to be floating and she presses her heels harder into the floor to ground herself. Helena and Sarzo are smiling brightly at them, their own arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, but before anyone can say anything, there’s a knock at the door. A new doctor comes in, greeting the group with a smile and nod.
“I’m Dr. Shaws. Officer Street, how are you feeling?” She asks, already moving to look at his chart and trace over the machines that read his vitals.
“Okay. Sore, but nothing I can’t manage.” He winces as she presses lightly around his incision, but she doesn’t seem displeased, and that’s a relief in and of itself.
“Good. Everything looks good, so I’ll have someone come around soon to start your discharge and we can get you out of here by tonight. Your team’s waiting outside if you want me to send them in?” She raises her eyebrows and he’s quick to nod.
“Just give us a few minutes, yeah. Thank you.”
Dr. Shaws leaves with a handshake, fingers already expertly typing something to someone on a pager. Helena and Sarzo stand at the click of the door closing. Their few belongings are at the end of the couch, and Chris slips off Sarzo’s jacket to hand it back to him. She starts to stand, but Helena waves it off and leans down instead to kiss both of their heads. Sarzo echoes the sentiment with shoulder squeezes and a soothing smile.
“Let us know when you’re heading out of here, we’ll get the guest room set up and then hit the grocery store. We love you two.”
“Love you, too.” They both say, Chris leaning as close to Street as she can within the confines of the wires he’s attached to. The nerves have finally drained from her, and he’s as relaxed as he can be as he watches her family leave.
The silent moment is broken as quick as it comes when the door opens again and the team barrels in. All have backpacks slung over their shoulders, clear this was a group trip before they all head to HQ, and their smiles widen at seeing the pair. Hondo steps up first and sets his hand on Street’s leg.
“How you feeling, Kid?”
“Alright,” Street says, butterflies taking off in his stomach when he glances at Chris, not wanting to share their development with anyone yet. “A lot better now.”
“Good. You rest up so you can get back to fighting shape.”
Street promises to and then waves off Powell saying something about having to sub in Alfaro with a laugh that turns into a wince. He gives Chris a look to promise he’s okay when she sits up and starts to reach for the call button.
“I’ll be back by the end of the week.”
“Uh, you’ll be back when the doctors clear you.” Tan pipes up, ever the realist. Chris laughs under her breath, comforted by the familiar weight of his hand when it lands on her shoulder. “You leave for a week, and this is the kind of trouble he gets himself into.”
“And none of you realized anything was wrong?” Chris says, a gentle accusation, but one that years of working together lets Luca lean into.
“Figured he just got his butt kicked by Rocker’s new boxing program.”
She and Street both roll their eyes at the same time, and she makes a mental note to talk to Rocker about getting in the ring next time she sees him so she can see this for herself. Deacon steps in to cut through all of it, voice clear and calm as it echoes off the cabinets.
“Okay, enough. I recall plenty of times trying to tell you to take it easy, and it never went well. Street here’s no different. But we’re glad you’re al—”
A chorus of beeps lights up the room followed by hands reaching into pockets. Hondo’s already on the phone with someone, Hicks, stern voice telling him they’ll be there shortly.
“We’re glad you’re alright. Call if you need anything.” Deacon finishes, smiling warmly at both of them as the group turns to head out the door.
“Be careful!” Chris and Street call, hearing a flood of noise in response that they can only assume are smooth comments about how they always are, and won’t get into any worse positions than Street’s already in.
Back in the silence, Street’s eyes carry over the room, more comfortable than he ever thought a hospital room could be, and find Chris’s. His lips quirk up instinctually, but worry hides in his features over how unsettled she still looks.
“I’m alright, Chris, I promise.” He says softly, trying to help.
“I know,” she says back, but it’s too quick, and her exhaustion is just as evident. “I’ll just be glad when I can take you home.”
“You’re gonna buy me dinner first, I hope?” He jokes, and it’s enough to break through her walls. She covers her mouth when a snort comes out, shaking her head.
“I’m not splurging on Paul’s when you’re going to take three bites and then sleep for six hours. Maybe once that ring you were talking about comes in.” He lights up like a Christmas tree and wishes that he weren’t impeded by bandages and tubes to pull her as close as he wants to.
“You’re going to love it,” he promises, grinning huge. She runs her hand through his hair again, fingers finding his pulse on his neck as her lips ghost over his cheek.
“I already do.”