Chapter 62

Angie was quiet and reserved the next morning, and prone to frequent blushing from the time she woke up, right up to when Mark and Kristen dropped her off at her own house before heading to school. Mark would have thought that maybe she regretted her actions of the night before, except that, several times, he caught her watching Kristen with an expression that went well beyond tender. Adoring, awed, and full of wonder, it bordered on worshipful at times, and while her attempts at showing the girl her feelings were hesitant and somewhat awkward, their sincerity was impossible to doubt. He just wished she was more comfortable with him, and with the other parts of Kristen's life-- if she couldn't bring herself to accept them, to try and fit in, she'd only make herself miserable. Despite all that had happened, Mark didn't want that for her. Even if he had still been angry, Kristen was happier now, more complete now that the gaping wound on her soul had been healed. He wouldn't take that away from her for anything, much less something as petty as revenge.

Kristen seemed perfectly fine that morning. More than fine. She bounced around the house with even more than her normally obscene amount of bubbly energy, smiling constantly and occasionally singing sweet, happy love songs, and once twirled around in pure joyful exuberance, giggling like a little girl. No ... he wouldn't do anything to take that away from her. As happy as he was to see her happy, though, it scared him. If Angie couldn't adapt to the lifestyle that Kristen needed, he was afraid it would hurt her badly-- and Angie had already hurt her quite enough.

The thought of just how badly his young wife had been hurt, and how close he'd come to losing her, still terrified him. One moment, he'd be watching her as she smiled sweetly at her new lover, or as she danced happily around the kitchen, and then the next he'd be reliving that horrible moment in the ICU. The shrill scream of the heart monitor, the doctor and nurses surrounding her, blocking her from his view as they worked frantically, the jackhammer thud of the defibrillator ... and then the words that had torn his soul in two. We've lost her. He could hear them just as clearly as he had then, every time he thought about it-- and he couldn't keep from thinking about it-- and every time he did, it felt like a kick in the gut. His breath would freeze in his throat, and pain would shoot through his chest, like a hand of ice crushing his heart. In that moment of memory, he could hear nothing else, could see nothing else, and it was all he could do not to fall to his knees and sob. It was no wonder, then, that he hated the very thought of letting her out of his sight.

Even when she smiled understandingly at him, and assured him that she was fine, and gently chided him for "needless fussing", he still couldn't quite believe, on some level, that she really was safe now. Besides, had he spent the past day at the bedside of a young wife who'd nearly died from an allergic reaction, he'd be just as worried, so it didn't hurt anything for him to walk her to her first class, feel her forehead, or stroke her hair. It would be expected that he'd worry about her relapsing.

Kayla and Aaron hovered and fussed just as much, but fortunately that was also understandable. It was well known that they were her best friends, and the school was starting to consider them a "couple", as well, so only the dirtiest of minds would see something untoward about Aaron's quiet, gentle worry about "his girlfriend's best friend".

He hated to leave her to her first class, but knew that Kayla would watch her like a hawk for any signs of distress, and wouldn't hesitate to come get him if need be. He still lingered longer than he should, until finally Kristen laughed and pushed him out the door. A quick, sweet kiss, stolen in the hallway during a rare moment of emptiness, and then he finally found himself on the way to his own classroom.