(Their bond deepens. Laughter returns. And Kade finally says her name out loud.)
Kade
His voice had been gone for twenty-three days.
Not permanently. Just wired away. The metal clamps on his jaw had come off earlier that morning.
His throat was tight. Raw.
His words, when he tried them in private, came out fractured and unfamiliar. Like hearing yourself on tape—only worse.
He hated it.
The silence had started to feel safe.
But now… she was coming over.
And he was going to try.
The door opened.
She stepped in like she always did—without knocking, without asking.
Like she belonged there.
Like she belonged with him.
He tried not to stare.
But it had been a long time since he'd seen her like this.
Sunlight kissed her cheeks. Her hair was in a loose braid. She wore his hoodie again—stolen, oversized, stretched at the sleeves.
She looked soft. Strong. Beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.
"Hi," she said.
His lips parted.
And what came out was nothing more than a cracked, dry, too-quiet—
"…Hey."
She froze.
Her eyes went wide.
Then they shimmered.
"Kade?"
He nodded.
"You spoke."
A breathy laugh fell from her lips. She crossed the room in two strides and cupped his cheeks like she was scared he might disappear.
"You sound like gravel and thunder and ghosts," she whispered, grinning. "It's perfect."
They sat on his bed. He didn't speak much. Just small words.
Simple answers.
He was still getting used to it.
But Viera didn't push.
She knew what quiet meant for him.
So instead, she told stories.
Ridiculous ones.
Her failed driver's test. The time Logan tried to flirt with a student teacher and got detention. That one time she almost fell off the cheer pyramid because someone played Eye of the Tiger mid-practice.
Kade listened.
And smiled.
And then—
She tickled his ribs.
It was subtle.
Just two fingers.
But he jumped, startled, shoulders jerking like someone had dumped ice down his back.
"Don't—" he rasped, weakly.
Which, of course, made her grin wider.
"Don't what?" she said innocently.
"Viera…"
Her name sounded strange on his tongue.
Strange and warm and alive.
Her heart nearly broke hearing it.
He'd said her name.
Not as a whisper.
Not in a dream.
But out loud.
She leaned in, eyes soft.
"Say it again."
He looked at her—really looked.
And for the first time since the beating, since the hospital, since the day he thought maybe he wouldn't wake up—
He laughed.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't smooth.
It cracked and fell out of him like a bird too long caged.
But it was real.
And Viera just watched, stunned, hand frozen in the air where she'd meant to tickle him again.
Kade was laughing.
Kade was laughing.
He doubled over slightly, shoulders shaking, one hand covering his mouth, eyes squinting like the light of the world had become too bright, too much.
It was the sound of someone discovering they could still feel joy.
It was the sound of healing.
It was the sound of coming back from the dead.
Viera laughed too.
More out of emotion than humor.
She lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him, nearly toppling them both back onto the bed.
"You laughed," she whispered into his neck.
"I did," he rasped.
"You laughed."
"I did, Viera."
He said her name again.
And again.
And again.
They stayed like that for hours.
Her head on his chest.
His hand playing gently with the strands of her braid.
No TV. No phone. No music.
Just the occasional word.
And laughter that didn't hurt anymore.
Later
When she left that night, he walked her to the door.
No wheelchair. No cane.
He limped, but he walked.
And just before she stepped out into the night, she turned.
He leaned forward.
Pressed his forehead to hers.
Their breaths tangled in the dark.
And she whispered, "You're almost back, aren't you?"
And he answered—not with a joke, or a shrug.
But with truth:
"I'm not coming back."
Pause.
"I'm becoming someone new."
She kissed his cheek.
And whispered:
"Good."
End of Chapter 10
Next: Chapter 11 – The Dance