(Rebecca's POV)
His face is the first thing I see when I surface fully.
Red-eyed. Unshaved, the stubble come in patchy and uneven the way it does when he's gone too many hours without thinking about it at all. Close — closer than usual, leaned right over the edge of the bed like he's been sitting there a while, watching, waiting for my eyes to open all the way.
I try to read his expression and I can't quite place it, which is strange in itself, because I've had three years to learn every version of Eric's face and I thought I'd catalogued all of them by now. This one's new. Devastated and relieved at the same time, both things sitting right on top of each other in a way that shouldn't be possible and somehow is — like something he'd already grieved and buried has been handed back to him
