by Dana Volney
His chest rose and fell, his pulse weaker as he took a breath and stronger when he exhaled. Not a good sign. Idiopathic pulmonary arterial hypertension caused a higher risk of blood clots. The list of things that could be going wrong right now was too long to narrow it down to one. He needed a hospital.
The ambulance arrived wailing, but it didn’t seem as loud as usual. All she could see was Fisher’s pale skin; all she could hear was his shallow breathing. She reached over, wrapping her palms around his left hand as she reported his IPAH condition. “I’m riding with you.” She hopped in the back before Jane could disagree, never letting go of his hand.
They couldn’t end on this note; the last time she spoke to him couldn’t be a fight. He couldn’t just die like this. Alone.
She wiped her cheek on her shoulder, her eyes so full of tears she could barely see him.
His continued unconsciousness wasn’t a good sign.
She’d never understand his pain, but if it was anything like how broken and heavy her heart felt in her chest right now, making it hard to breathe and sucking all hope out of the air, he was going to have to fight to come back. Fight to heal.
They hurried him out of the ambulance, and she rushed to keep up, ready to order the tests she knew he needed so she could figure out exactly what was going on and how bad it was. He was supposed to have years left, not minutes.
“Dr. Morgenstern. I’ve got this.” Dr. Wilmington stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the room.
“I know him. He’s got IPAH.”
“I’ve been briefed on his chart. I’ll handle this and let you know as soon as I do.” She pointed to the waiting area, and as badly as Silver wanted to call rank on her, Wilmington was a damn fine doctor and could, in fact, handle Fisher’s case.
“Don’t let him die,” she whispered to her colleague, her arms falling to her sides as curtains closed around Fisher. She’d studied how to fix most problems in the body, but healing the hurt she’d caused him, caused herself, was beyond her schooling.
Her feet wouldn’t move. The muffled voices and commands almost soothed her. There were no codes being called out; they were working to save him. People rushed around her, and she stood there. She had no idea how long.
“Silver.” Lorelei jogged up, hugged her, and led her to the waiting area. “What happened?”
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Nurse Robert called. Said you were upset.”
“It’s Fisher. We were talking. Well, fighting”—she sniffed back tears—“because he found out what I did and he was so mad. I don’t blame him.” Lorelei hugged her sideways, and the pain in her chest lessened. “I still don’t regret it. Especially now. What if he doesn’t wake up?”
“Mr. Hale?” Lorelei gave Silver a sideways glance before letting go and walking over to the man talking to Robert at the nurse’s station.
“Ms. Sullivan. What are you doing here?” The man rotated toward Lorelei.
“I’m with my friend.” Lorelei turned to Silver, who recognized Fisher’s friend from the snowball fight. Henry is Lorelei’s boss?
“Dr. Silver Morgenstern, this is my boss, Mr. Hale.” Lorelei stood straight, a serene, blank expression gracing her high cheekbones. She’d gone into work mode: show no emotion.
Silver stretched out her hand to the gorgeous lawyer Lorelei rarely talked about. Which would be something she and her best friend would be discussing later, because he looked like exactly Lorelei’s type—smart, sexy, and rich.
“We’ve met.” His handshake was firm. “What’s going on? The call was cryptic. Where is he?” Henry’s gaze frantically searched the area, panic taking over.
“He’s here. They’re checking him out now.” Silver used her calming, slow doctor voice to make sure he was hearing her.
Worry wrinkled his forehead.
“How do you know Fisher?” Lorelei asked Henry, her work persona faltering.
“I’m his best friend. And emergency contact. What’s going on?”
“He passed out. I had the ambulance bring him here, and they’ve been working on him ever since.”
Henry rubbed his hand down his face. “Dammit. Did they say anything else? Can I see him? Is he going to make it?”
“I don’t know.” That was the truth. She didn’t know why he would pass out all of a sudden and what other conditions were impeding his heart, or if he was even pumping it on his own right now. Dr. Wilmington hadn’t been out to give an update yet.
“You were with him when this happened?” Henry stopped pacing and ran his hand through his hair.
“Yes.”
“I should’ve just let him do his own thing, but no, I had to stick my nose in and pressure him to tell you how he felt. Stress isn’t good for his heart.”
“What?” How he felt? Yeah, she’d gotten that message loud and clear all right. She took a deep breath and tried to put on a blank face of her own. She couldn’t blame Henry. She’d hurt his friend, and if someone did that to Lorelei or Maisy, she’d act the same way.
Henry kept talking. “He was supposed to be grabbing beer for me to have while my brother’s kids battled each other in video games and my parents argued over who’s cooking what.” He shrugged. “Family tradition.”
“He did come to see me, but it wasn’t to make up.” She was so confused. Not about what Fisher had said to her—that was playing on repeat in the recesses of her mind. But what Henry was saying didn’t make any sense.
Nurse Robert ushered them into the ER waiting room. Henry sat down in the seat across from them, and the focused lawyer who was used to hearing all sides of a story emerged. The worry in his gaze was only secondary.
“We were actually arguing because I, um, sort of got in the way of his paperwork, and he was never taken off the recipient list. He’d just found out. And was not happy.” It was one thing to finally be honest about what she’d done and another to cover her ass to a lawyer.
“I see.”
“I know why he was mad, and I don’t blame him.” Words tumbled out as if she might drown if she didn’t say them. “I just, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t—I can’t—watch him throw any chance he has of living out the window. Nothing in this life is guaranteed.” Henry wasn’t Fisher, but she might never get to state her case to him, so she had to get it out. All of it. “I care way too much about him to let that happen.”
“Am I to understand that, against my client’s wishes, you, a doctor, did not file paperwork he was expressly within his right to have executed?” Henry sat forward; resting his elbows on his knees, and didn’t look away.
“That sums it up pretty good. Am I to understand that you are his best friend and condone him throwing in the towel on his life?” A flare of anger shot through her voice. She had nothing to lose at this point. If this guy wanted to go after her entire license, she’d happily save him the trouble and throw it in his face.
Especially if it meant Fisher would be all right.
But what she’d done had only kept him from being taken off the list—it didn’t mean he was going to get a heart that was a match or that he’d get one in time.
Time was the enemy.
“One accusation does not befit the other, Doctor.” Henry’s head dipped, and she couldn’t see his expression until moments had passed and he gazed first at Lorelei then back to her. “I’ve tried to talk him out of it so many times since I found out. I never thought to interfere with the paperwork. Well done. Well done, indeed.”
A big breath filled her chest, and she let it out quickly. That made one less person to convince. There was still hope that with this scare, Fisher would see the merits of staying on the list, of living his life. Of spending it with her.
Silver could feel Lorelei’s tension level drop significantly too with Henry’s side smile. Interesting.
Minutes ticked by on the clock on the wall. No answers came. Nothing made sense, nothing made the situation better. Fisher was in a room hanging on for dear
life, and she was stuck in a glass room.
The only facts she’d learned were that this side of the waiting room sucked royally and Lorelei was hot for her boss. That was a conversation she’d save for later, after Henry was gone and she needed a distraction from her own heartache.
“Dr. Morgenstern,” Dr. Wilmington called out.
Silver stood on legs she could barely feel. Her entire body was mostly numb, yet her tear ducts where working perfectly. She joined her colleague in the hall, trying to read the expression on the older woman’s face. The thin line of her lips and her furrowed brow behind rimless glasses said nothing. The doctor had been trained in not giving too much hope.
“He’s stable. For now.” The cautious words brought little solace.
Technically, Silver shouldn’t be privy to a patient’s status. Having a position at PWMC hospital finally had its perks. But Henry was Fisher’s emergency contact, the person he chose to make decisions on his behalf. Silver popped her head back into the waiting room and waved him over.
“He’s breathing on his own. It’s his heart we’re most concerned about.” Dr. Wilmington glanced between the two of them and said gently, “We’re seeing signs of heart failure, and with his condition, there isn’t much we can do.”
“Is he conscious?” Silver asked, one arm wrapped around her midsection, the other rubbing her neck. This was worst-case scenario. If Fisher didn’t get a heart soon, he’d spend the rest of his time in the hospital. From what she knew of him, the hospital wouldn’t be able to hold him. He’d check out and be dead within a day. Dead. Gone forever.
“No. We’re running tests to answer that riddle. His heart condition shouldn’t be keeping him in a comatose state.”
“Coma?” Henry rubbed his forehead and started to pace.
The only time Lorelei had talked about her boss was to rave about how good he was under pressure and how his intuition had saved the day on many cases. And then there were the days when Lorelei couldn’t stand him because he was never satisfied until they won the case. Of course, that was his professional life; personally, he was starting to lose it. Silver could see it in his eyes. Or maybe she was witnessing her own failings as an impartial thinker under stress. She’d always prided herself on staying calm and rational in all contexts. Not anymore.
“It is coma-like,” Dr. Wilmington emphasized. “We don’t expect him to stay unconscious for long, but until we know why, we’re running tests starting with the most likely.”
“Which is?”
“I’ll come back when I know more.” Her tender smile was small and shut down the conversation without being hasty or giving false hope or undue agitation since Fisher’s diagnosis was in question. The PWMC legal team would be proud. She eyed Silver before she returned through the double doors to the ER, her blue-covered shoes silent.
Dr. Wilmington hadn’t wanted to say terms like “internal bleeding” and “pressure on the brain” and frighten the daylights out of Henry, and frankly Silver was glad she didn’t have to hear them said out loud.
In this case, not knowing specifically might turn out to be better. If she knew, she’d play out every scenario of what could be happening to Fisher right now—losing brain function, heart tissue dying, an overall weakened state—and then she’d curl up in the corner and sob like a baby because there was nothing she could do.
chapter NINE
Beeping noises roused Fisher. Where am I? He tried to open his eyes but couldn’t, at least not much. Only enough to see a lot of white and blue. How long have I been like this?
What was the last thing he remembered? Talking to Silver. No, fighting with her. Watching a tear roll down her cheek and cussing himself out for being the one who put it there. She hadn’t deserved his bitterness. He wasn’t even angry at her. Not really. He was frustrated with himself for being a stubborn fool who hadn’t changed his mind sooner. Hadn’t had the balls to admit he was wrong and that he wanted to live.
I want to live. I want a new heart.
She’d lied about her real identity. He had lied by omission about his heart condition. She’d not filed his paperwork. Then he’d collapsed, and his world had gone dark.
His head ached, and his body was weak, drained. He couldn’t move anything, couldn’t open his eyes. Work, dammit.
This was it. This was how it all ended. He would’ve taken a deep breath and cried a little if he could. If his body were working right.
At least he got to see one truth before he died.
He loved Silver.
He would’ve wanted to build a life with her. Have a family with her. Now he’d not get the chance.
There was no reason other than his faulty heart that he’d have passed out the way he did, that his body wasn’t strong enough to open his damn eyelids.
Heal, dammit.
Drowsiness crept over him, pressing his body harder against the bed. His eyelids closed tightly.
He was going to get his wish after all.
He wasn’t going to be on the transplant list any longer.
• • •
The four glass walls were closing in on her. Silver’s phone vibrated in her pocket. Janae’s name flashed on her screen.
“Hello?” she answered, unsure if Janae was calling about work or for personal reasons. It was Christmas Eve after all.
“Silver, good, I’m glad I reached you.” Janae breathed hard into the phone.
“Are you running?”
“Rushing, actually. I’m on call for the National Organ Transplant List. We got one.”
“What?”
“I’m hurrying into the office because I need to double-check a record.”
“Are you here?” Silver’s heart started to pump quicker.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll see you up there.” She turned to Lorelei, who was sitting crossed-legged, leaning back in her chair, and watching her boss like she was stalking prey. “I’ll be back. I need to go take care of something.”
She hurried to the elevator bank, grateful for the distraction.
A part of her hoped Fisher matched the donor. If it was a heart. The ER had been crazy busy, but she hadn’t overheard anyone talking about a donor.
She stepped off the elevator in time to see Janae unlocking their outer-office door. “You got here quick.”
“I was downstairs. A friend of mine is in the ER.”
“I’m so sorry. Everything going to be all right?”
Silver stared at the blond. No, everything probably wasn’t going to be all right. She did a half shrug, half head bobble thing as she made a beeline for the laptop on her desk. “Which organs are we dealing with and which questions have been posed?”
In the back of Silver’s office, Janae unlocked a separate door that housed the medical records of transplant-specific patients. Being a regional supervisor required that she have direct access to the files at all times, for situations such as this when a file and tests were called into question. The hard copy data always won.
Janae reappeared with five files in her hands as Silver logged on to the National Organ Transplant List system.
“There was a two-car crash on the interstate. One male died at the scene, the other two victims were taken to the hospital and died on the operating tables. Both donors. So we have a couple of organs.”
Silver squeezed her thighs together in her chair and curled her toes. Was one of the victims able to donate their heart?
“The first potential match they had was a kidney from the female. The other kidney was damaged in the crash.” Janae looked up from her email on her phone. “And the reason she died.” Her frown was out of place—Silver had never seen anything but a smile on the girl’s face.
“They matched it to another female in Casper but needed her latest PRA results. She’d been too high in the past but was working on bringing them down. Everything else makes her compatible for the kidney.” Janae rattled off the name, and Silver checked the in-house electronic medical record to
verify it against the data in her file.
“Her PRA is lower now, and she’s within the range.” Silver sighed in relief as Janae emailed their first finding. Time was of the essence, so they had to let the official National Organ Transplant List people know to okay everything in the proper way. Looked like Dr. Silas, one of the best surgeons on staff, would have a full schedule for the next twenty-four hours. “Next?” She could feel her heart pumping in her ears.
“They’ve assigned most of the others already. The next question is about a liver. That’s why I had to grab these files.” Janae pointed to the three files in the stack.
Fisher didn’t need a liver. Silver’s heartbeat slowed, and her arms went numb. She slid the manila folders out of the way to the last name and closed her eyes, saying a little prayer, before focusing on the name. Thomas Rizzoli. Not Fisher.
Breathe. Keep breathing. You don’t know he needs a heart tonight. By the time she got back downstairs, he could be awake and fine. Best-case scenarios did happen.
But a heart for the holiday would be the best present.
chapter TEN
Silver picked up three cups of coffee on her way to the waiting room. If Lorelei had left, then she’d drink the extra cup. She had no intention of leaving until Fisher woke up. Even that might not be enough. She wanted to talk to him. How they’d left things sucked, and now that all the truths were on the table, maybe they could talk it out. And he could get better.
But, holy crap, there was no reason he would’ve actually changed his mind. She had still lied; she still hadn’t performed his written wishes. She still wasn’t someone he wanted to be around.
A problem for a different time. She’d deal with all of that once he woke up. When she could look into his golden eyes and see the life in him. Once he smiled at her again.
Probably Fisher smiling at Henry was the closest she was going to get, but, hey, a girl could dream.
