The Day I Stopped Waiting Was the Day He Started Begging novel Chapter 100

York unapologetically drank in the sight of the woman in the hospital bed, his thumb lightly brushing against her cheek.

Her features were the very ones he had traced entirely from memory in the dead of night, countless times over.

Perhaps he really was a selfish bastard. Even with endless danger circling them, he still desperately wanted to chain her to his side.

Right before she passed out, what had she been trying to say?

Was she going to call him a jerk again?

So what if she did.

They collided. He once had her entirely to himself, even if he had never managed to capture her heart.

York clutched her hand with an iron grip, motionless as a stone statue.

...

Madeline woke up in the middle of the night. The absolute first thing she saw was York, sitting perfectly still beside her bed.

The abrasions on the man's arm had already scabbed over. Even with his eyes closed, his sharp features radiated a predatory dominance.

Feeling a stifling heat encompassing her fingers, she glanced down and immediately saw York clasping her hand.

The last time he had held her like this was just a few months into their marriage.

Her health had been fragile back then. Once, a severe bout of cramps had caused her to pass out completely, right on the heels of a massive fight with York.

When she woke up, he had been gripping her hand exactly like this.

He had looked right at her and said, "Maddy, the next time we fight, I'll let you win."

"Stop scaring me."

Back then, she hadn't grown into the hardened woman she was now. She had been spoiled and entirely unreasonable, snapping back: *It's your fault for making me mad! York, if I ever get too tired to argue with you, that's when we're truly over.*

And he had pinned her down, kissing her senseless, telling her: *Absolutely not. Even when we're six feet under, we're sharing a casket. If I live to 99, you're living to 96.*

Maybe it was just the psychological vulnerability of waking up in a hospital bed, but the sterile environment naturally dragged all those impossibly sweet memories back to the surface.

Madeline recalled the look in York's eyes right before she lost consciousness. It had been intensely focused, utterly consumed by the sheer terror of losing her, as if she were his entire goddamn universe.

For a fleeting second, it gave her the illusion that their agonizing two-year cold war had never happened.

As if it had all been a paranoid nightmare.

And now she was awake, and he was still right here.

But...