“I missed the shit out of you,” I told him, leaning in to kiss his forehead.
We sat for a while with me talking randomly, holding his hand, and stealing glances at the door, waiting to get kicked out.
When the door finally opened, I resolved myself to a scowling father but instead got the doctor.
“Good news,” he said, glancing up from his laptop. “Oh, I didn’t realize…” He faltered. “I thought you weren’t allowed to be in here.”
“I just really wanted to make sure he was okay,” I said, playing it off. “What’s the good news you mentioned?”
“Oh, uh, I’ll just go get the next of kin.”
I deflated when he turned away.
“I’m here,” Drew’s mom said, coming around the corner. “You have news about Drew?”
The doctor glanced at me once more.
Resigned, I stood, reluctantly slipping my hand from Drew’s. “I’ll go,” I told them. “Thank you for allowing me a few minutes,” I said sincerely.
Even if I was aching considerably, I was still grateful. Any minute with Drew was a minute to be thankful for.
“You can stay,” Adrienne said, surprising me and the doctor. Her face flushed, and she avoided my open stare. “Do you have the results?” she asked.
“Yes.” He confirmed. “The lung looks great. No fluid, and I see nothing that suggests it won’t be able to hold oxygen.”
I sank against the wall and breathed a giant sigh of relief.
Patrick stepped into the room, wheeling a tray of covered supplies.
“I’m going to go ahead and remove the chest tube.” The doctor went on. “Then we will remove the ventilator.”
Adrienne nodded. I stayed by the wall, hoping she would forget I was there and not change her mind about my presence.
“If you want to step out…” He gestured to the door.
She agreed readily, walking out. It offended me.
“I’m staying,” I announced. Forget trying to be invisible.
“It’s not necessary.”
“You said it’s painful for patients. Coma or not, Drew has some kind of awareness. Someone should be here with him,” I insisted. Shifting my stare to his mother, I said, “He shouldn’t have to endure any of this alone, even if it is hard to watch.”
Her cheeks paled.
I didn’t feel bad.
“Fine, but you’ll need to remain quiet.” The doctor allowed.
I said nothing.
Adrienne hesitated.
Still holding her stare, I spoke quietly. “Please. Let me stay.”
Her lips rolled inward. She looked into the hallway, probably wondering about her husband. To my surprise, she nodded.
The relief was seriously real.
Patrick hurried to shut the door behind her as if he also thought she might change her mind. Then he readied all the supplies while the doctor put on some sterile gloves.
I kept my word and stayed quiet and out of the way. Well, until they flipped the blankets back and started the process of removing the tube inserted between his ribs. Unable to stand back any longer, I moved slowly toward the bed.
Once there, I took Drew’s hand in both of mine.
The doctor glanced up at me but then went back to his work.
I didn’t watch what they were doing, but my stomach clenched just the same. I focused on Drew’s face, on any flicker of pain or awareness. He remained unchanged, but I held his hand anyway, gently stroking over it with my thumb.
Thankfully, it was a quick procedure, and soon the tube was gone and a large bandage put in place.
I leaned down and whispered, “It’s over, Forrester. You did amazing.”
The doc pulled out his stethoscope and listened to Drew’s chest for a few minutes, then looked up. “Doing good.”
“Yeah?” I echoed, hopeful.
“Let’s go ahead and remove the ventilator.”
“It’s not too soon?” I stressed, gazing back down at him.
“I don’t think so. Lungs heal fairly quickly, and ideally, we would like Drew to be breathing on his own. Once he’s doing that, we can transfer him out of the ICU and bring him out of the coma.”
I so badly wanted Drew to wake up. I wanted to see recognition in his eyes, a smile on his lips. Still, I hesitated because it didn’t matter what I wanted. What mattered was what was best for him.
After a moment of debate, I nodded. “Go ahead.”
The doctor didn’t bother to point out that it wasn’t even my decision. It was Drew’s parents’. I appreciated that.
I had to stand back when they pulled the tube out of his throat. My stomach churned watching him lie there helplessly while the doctor and nurse leaned over him, doing things I knew would probably hurt if he was awake.
It was the first time I thought maybe his coma was a blessing in disguise. At least this way he felt less pain.
“Now what?” I said when the vent was removed.
“We see if he breathes on his own.”
Forgetting I was asked to stand back, I came forward and took Drew’s hand. “Take a breath, Forrester.”
Doc, Patrick, and I stood there watching and waiting.
Drew’s chest expanded.
Then again.
The relief was so incredible that chills broke out across my skin and scalp. My body tingled as I gripped his hand and willed him to keep breathing.
The doc listened to his lungs again. A few minutes passed, and then he looked up. My eyes asked him what my mouth could not.
“He’s breathing on his own. Lung function is good.”
I blew out the breath I’d been holding, making my chest cave. “Thank God,” I prayed under my breath. “Thank God.”
“We’ll keep an eye on him. Check his oxygen saturation in a short while.” The doctor directed his words to Patrick, who nodded.
“Will do.”
Then he turned back to me. “He’s doing well.”
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I tried to blink them back. The relief was so great I couldn’t contain it.
The doctor put his hand on my shoulder. “I’ll go tell the family.”
Nodding, I swiped at my damp eyes.
The second they were gone, I laid my palm over his chest and nearly cried all over again when it rose and fell with his gentle breath.
“It’s so good to see your face again,” I whispered, roaming every inch of him. Unable to resist, I stroked my fingertips across his chin and jawline. “Your scruff is turning into a beard.”
The cuts on his cheeks stood out against the paleness of his skin, and there were marks on the lower portion of his face from the ventilator.
He was still the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.
In fact, he was even more beautiful to me now. Even in this condition. Actually, because of this condition. He was alive and breathing on his own, which was honestly the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
Moving slowly, still feeling the rise and fall of his breath against my palm, I leaned in. The anticipation of him didn’t make me hurry. Instead, I reveled in it. I’d never taken Drew for granted. I’d always known just how incredible it was that he loved me. Now I cherished it even more.
The moment my lips brushed against his, my heart stuttered and the fingers lying against his chest spasmed lightly. Emotion welled up, making my throat feel tight and my head dizzy. Even so, I kept the kiss brief and gentle so as not to interfere with any breathing he was trying to do.
“Your lips are dry,” I told him, rubbing the pad of my thumb across them. “Your mouth probably is too.”
I poured a glass of water and pushed the chair as close to the bed as possible, sitting down with everything I needed. Unwrapping a large Q-Tip-looking thing, I dipped it into the glass, lifting it to dampen his dry, cracked lips.
On the second pass, too much water dripped off the tip and trailed across his jaw. Gently, I swiped at the excess water, feeling a kind of peace I hadn’t know
n in days.
I almost felt guilty for the moment of ease I felt.
I wasn’t sure I deserved it.
The door opened, but I didn’t look up right away.
“What are you doing?” his father demanded, breaking any sort of calm we had.
“His lips are dry,” I replied, keeping my voice low and even.
I’d never been one to hate anyone. Usually, I just remained indifferent and wasn’t too quick to anger—unless it involved a threat to Drew.
But this man? He taught me pure hate.
How ironic that it was his son who taught me pure love.
“You’ve taken advantage enough for one day. Get out.”
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Excuse me?”
“The first thing you did was yell at me. Aren’t you going to ask how he is?”
He paused, then replied with an indignant tone. “The doctor just told us he was fine.”
“I would think you would want to ask the person sitting beside him. Or come forward and ask him yourself.”
“He can’t answer me right now.”
“Yes,” I said softly. “He can. You just have to listen.”
He went silent, but his presence was still suffocating.
Ivy came into the room. I felt her stare between us. “Trent, is he okay?”
I glanced just briefly at her father, as if to say, See? Your first thought should have been him.
“Breathing on his own,” I said proudly. “He needs some lip balm.”
“Let me get my bag,” she announced, then rushed out of the room.
She returned seconds later with her bag and a small jar of something in her hand. “Here,” she offered, taking off the lid.
I sat back, giving her space, but she held it out to me. “You do it.”
Automatically, my eyes slid toward her dad, who still stood watching. Ivy shifted, blocking him from my sight.
“His lips are chapped.”
I applied the balm to Drew’s lips, then set it beside the bed for later.
“You brought a blanket,” Ivy said.
“The ones in this place aren’t good enough.”
I felt Ivy’s hand in my hair. “You doing okay?”
I nodded. “Better now that he’s breathing on his own.”
Ivy wrapped her arms around my shoulders and hugged me tight.
“Thank you,” I whispered against her.
“Cam’s a good distraction,” she whispered back.
Patrick bustled into the room. “I need to check some things, and the patient needs some rest. Two visitors at a time.”
“I’ll go,” Ivy offered, pulling back.
“He’s going,” her father snapped, reminding us he was still there.
Ivy started to argue, but I put a hand on hers. “You stay. I’ll be in the waiting room.”
Her blue eyes were conflicted.
“It’s fine.” I promised, giving Drew one last lingering look before silently taking my leave.
It wasn’t that I wanted to go, but I also knew how lucky I was to be at his side today. I didn’t want to push his father too far because I was still afraid of what he might do.
21
Drew
* * *
Sometimes there was silence. Sometimes there was the crackle of static and distant sounds I didn’t understand.
Sometimes a strange sensation of anger and tension permeated the room.
Fear.
Loneliness.
But sometimes there was warmth. There was a voice that reached through everything else, a voice with a powerful ability to become the center of the dark universe I floated in.
Awareness burst over me, along with the brush of cool air. I tried to recoil, but my body still felt like it belonged to someone else. People stood over me. Foreign sounds and hazy voices filled the air.
Vivid fear that they were here to do me harm gripped my heart and incited panic throughout my limbs. An odd tugging sensation somewhere in my middle made me want to scream.
What is happening?
Safety enveloped me, sort of like a blanket in the cold or an umbrella buffering the rain. Skin against skin wiped away the worry, and the tug in my chest seemed a little less scary. Then it was gone. But the feeling of safety remained, and soon, the voice I always recognized accompanied it.
There he is. Where’ve you been?
It was quieter now, and the pressure in my chest was gone. Some of the binds that seemed to be tying me down were gone.
The urge to suddenly gag and cough nearly choked me, but I couldn’t. Instead, I lay here feeling the burn of needs I couldn’t meet.
Lips brushed over mine, quieting the worst of the unrest disturbing me. Cool moisture soaked my lips that felt entirely too dry, and then the hum of quiet voices floated somewhere nearby.
“He’s going.” The harsh words broke into my peace.
The warm touch, the gentle presence started to pull away.
Wait! I yelled. Stay!
He vanished again, and haziness closed around me, only to be interrupted by the sound of the voice I’d been seeking.
He wasn’t calm and gentle this time, though. He was yelling.
22
Trent
* * *
The unauthorized photo circling the web was whipping everyone into a frenzy. Rumors flew, harsh debates waged online, and apparently, the family’s silence about Drew and his condition only made matters worse.
I didn’t want to deal with this.
But not wanting to deal with something didn’t make it go away. In fact, it made it worse.
A painful lesson I’d been learning lately.
“The media is camped outside the Gamble estate,” Braeden announced, coming into the waiting room, his mother following closely behind.
I got up when I saw her. “Caroline,” I said. “Thank you for being here.”
“Of course I would come,” she said.
“Where’s Ivy?” B asked, looking around.
“With Drew.”
“Everyone else?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure about Romeo and Rim. I would think that Drew’s mom is with Camden.”
“I’ll go see if you can go in and see him,” B told Caroline, heading for the door.
“Wait,” I called. “What were you saying about the press?”
B made a face. “They’re stalking the Gamble estate, and the number of people downstairs has doubled since you and I first left this morning.”
“I just chased a few out of the cafeteria,” Romeo informed us, coming up behind Braeden. He had a coffee in his hand, and Rim was carrying a juice. “There was one in the stairwell too.”
I cursed.
Braeden pulled the backward hat off his head to run his fingers through his hair before putting it back in place. “That pic of you has gone viral.” He made a face. “And now there are a bunch of shots floating around of us leaving the hospital.”
“I should have just stayed here,” I muttered.
“This isn’t your doing,” Caroline said sternly. “Those people have no limits.”
“Your zombie-like appearance got the rumor mill all whipped up in a frenzy again. The woman at the information desk downstairs said she gets nonstop calls from people trying to get updates about Drew.”
“Maybe we should release a statement.” Romeo considered.
“I can’t think about that now,” I said. An anxious feeling washed over me, and the urge to go down the hall and put eyes on Drew made me pace.
“You don’t have to. We’ll deal with it.”
“I don’t know.” I hedged. “What if it makes things worse?”
A flash of black slid down the hallway, something I might not have noticed if I hadn’t been looking at Romeo in the doorway.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose.
“Move.” I gasped, pushing between my brothers and out into the hall.
Someone dressed in a black h
oodie and jeans walked along the wall, slowing when he approached Drew’s room. The thick red strap I knew belonged to a camera draped around the back of his neck.
“Hey,” I called out.
The person halted but didn’t turn. Suddenly, in a fit of movement, he rushed forward, bolting directly inside Drew’s room.
I was already halfway down the hall when I heard Ivy gasp.
“Who are you?” Drew’s father called.
The bright flash of a camera flickered inside the room, and the obnoxious sound of photo after photo being taken filled my head.
My hand slammed down on the back of his shoulder, making his body sag under the hit. Squeezing, I pulled him around, ripping the hood off his head.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I growled low.
“Let me go!” he yelled, his legs running but his body stationary.
Holding tight, I looked over to where Drew lay. “He okay?” I asked, surveying every inch of him.
“He got pictures,” Ivy said, pointing at the intruder.
The man’s body slammed against the wall, and his face wrinkled in pain. He tried to run, but I shoved him back, using my body to block his exit. Roughly, I ripped the camera over his head and whipped it onto the ground.
The sound of it shattering and breaking apart was satisfying.
“Didn’t you hear?” I said, deadly quiet. “No press. No pictures.”
The little shit’s face flushed with anger, and his chin lifted. “Yeah? Well, I still got a story. He’s still in the ICU. He’s in a coma. And you weren’t even at his bedside.” He smirked. “Headlines for days.”
Rage flashed before me like a thunderstorm that came out of nowhere.
The second I moved, all the color drained from his face. The camera skidded somewhere across the room as I grabbed him by the back of the neck and dragged him up. His feet dangled over the floor when I lifted him so our eyes could meet.
“You think that’s a threat?” I asked, quiet. “You think you coming in here with your fancy camera and bad attitude will shake me up?”
#Fate Page 11
