“What time is it?” I ask out loud.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I stand, my legs heavy, and I glance at the clock. It’s 4:16 in the afternoon.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
My phone is lying on the bed, and I grab it. It’s dead.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Running a hand through my hair, trying to figure out how in the hell I’m asleep in the middle of the fucking afternoon, I head down the hallway.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Machlan! Open this goddamn door!” Peck’s voice is almost shrill. “Fucking hell, Mach! Open up!”
“For fuck’s sake.” I pull the door open. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
His face is pale. “Mach. It’s Nana.”
“It’s Nana, what?”
“Sienna went by to take her some muffins and found her in her chair.” His voice breaks. “Come on. They just took her by ambulance to the hospital.”
* * *
I look at the clock. “You’d think they’d have some information by now.”
My entire body hurts. The chairs in the waiting room don’t help, but the drain of energy is what kills me. I’ve paced. I’ve prayed. I’ve berated us all for not taking better care of her.
Lance’s head hangs. “What are we gonna do if something happens to her?”
“Don’t talk like that,” Peck says. “She’ll be fine.” He works his bottom lip between his teeth, an empty coffee cup in his hands. “She has to be.”
“Did you call your brother?” Walker looks at Peck. “I know there’s nothing he can do, but someone needs to tell him.”
Peck nods. “Yeah. I called Vincent on my way to Machlan’s. I told him I'd keep him posted.” He dangles the cup between his legs. “He was supposed to come home last month. He was gonna bring Sawyer to see Nana and surprise everyone, but Sawyer got sick and then Vincent got busy at work, and he just didn’t make it happen.”
“He needs to make it happen,” I say. “When’s the last time he’s been here?”
“Christmas. I think,” Peck replies. “But it’s not easy having a kid and being on your own. He does the best he can.”
I nod, looking at the floor. Peck is right. Vincent is a hell of a father to his kid. I’m just pissed off.
We sit quietly, the only sound coming from a cable news program on a television hanging precariously from the ceiling. I studied it earlier in-depth to take my mind off what’s happening here.
“Blaire is on her way down,” Lance says, looking at his phone. “She just sent me a text.”
Walker gets to his feet and heads to the vending machine. He doesn’t buy anything. Just looks.
I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes, imagining I’m at home and in bed, and Hadley is there at my side.
There’s an unsent text in my phone to Had. I’ve gone back and forth in the three hours we’ve been here about calling her or texting her to let her know about Nana. I told Cross in a quick outburst on the way over, but he was a couple of hours away at some boxing clinic and promised he’d come by as soon as he got back to town.
She wanted space. Does this count? Or is this something I should tell her?
My lungs threaten to collapse.
I have no fucking idea, and I have no one to ask. It just feels like bullshit.
I stand but sit again.
I rough my hands down my pants.
I stand again and pace a small circle, ignoring my brothers’ sideways glances.
I sit again.
What the fuck do I do?
I want her to want to know. I want her to be here, holding my hand, waiting for the doctor. I want to wipe her tears if she’s sad and buy her cookies from the vending machine if she hasn’t eaten.
I’m in a room surrounded by my family and a few people who are waiting on people of their own, but I couldn’t be more alone. They aren’t mine. They have people waiting on them, lives to go to, things to live for. And I don’t.
I can’t even text her.
I lost her.
I finally fucked up in the greatest way possible.
My hand grips my stomach as pain rips its way through.
“The Gibson family?” A doctor in light blue scrubs and a clipboard stands in the doorway.
We all spring to our feet. Walker walks toward him. “That’s us. Do you know anything? How is she?”
“Follow me.”
We scurry after him down a long hall and into a room not quite big enough for all of us to fit comfortably. We watch the doctor sit on a stool.
“I’m Dr. Moore,” he says. “Mrs. Gibson is your grandmother? Is that correct?”
“Yes,” we all say.
“And who might be the decision maker?”
“Blaire,” I say. “Our sister. She’s on her way from Chicago.”
He scribbles on the clipboard. “Very well.” He sets the pen down. “Your grandmother has had a myocardial infarction, or a heart attack, as it’s commonly called.”
“Is she going to be okay?” I ask.
“The blockages appear to be partial, which is a good thing,” he says. “She’s resting now. We’ve given her some medications to calm her down, and I expect she’ll be out of it for a while, if not most of the night. She took a bit of a beating today.”
I sag against the wall. “Can we see her?”
“When she wakes up, you can. But as I said, that likely won’t be for a while. In the meantime, we’re going to send her charts to a cardiologist and see if we can get him in here first thing in the morning. He’ll take over her case and put together the best game plan going forward.”
“But she’s going to live, right?” Peck asks.
“Right now, she’s stable,” the doctor says. “Her vitals are good, and from the information we had on file from Dr. Burns’ office, she seems to be fairly healthy. I have hope, but as I tell all my patients, I’m not God. I can’t guarantee anything.”
Walker stands and extends a hand. “Thank you, Doctor.”
“You’re welcome. You should get some rest. She’s going to be counting on you in the days and weeks ahead. Remember that. This is a marathon, not a sprint.”
With a final nod of his head, he’s out the door.
A collective exhale rattles the room as we look at each other.
“I’m not leaving,” I say. “You guys do what you want, but I’m staying.”
“Me too,” Peck says quietly.
Walker clamps a hand on Peck’s shoulder. “I’ll head back to Crank and lock up. I’m not even sure we locked the damn doors.” He looks at Lance. “And you look like shit.”
“I feel like shit,” Lance admits. “I think I got Mariah’s flu.”
“You go home,” Walker commands.
“No. I’m fine. I’m gonna—”
“You’re gonna go home.” Walker narrows his eyes. “If something happens, someone will call you. But you’re doing no one any good sitting around here feeling like crap. Get some rest. Get some food. And when she wakes up, and we can see her, we’ll let you know.”
Lance looks at the rest of us. “You guys sure?”
“Yeah. Go home,” I say.
Peck nods.
Lance stands, still unsure.
“When you come back, bring us some food, okay?” I ask, figuring it’ll give him something to focus on. “A burger is fine. Whatever.”
“Okay.”
Walker guides Lance toward the door. Before he leaves, he stops. “I’ll be back soon. Call me if anything happens.”
“We will,” Peck says. “Hey, make sure I turned off the parts cleaner. I think I left it on.” He rubs his forehead. “I’m not sure.”
Walker nods and disappears out the door.
I pull out my phone and look at the unsent text to Hadley. My thumb hovers over the green button to send it.
“We probably need to go back to the waiting room,” Peck says.
With a final,
lingering look at my phone, I shove it back in my pocket. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
Thirty-Five
Machlan
The waiting room on the fifth floor is quiet. An older woman was in here earlier but left a couple of hours ago. Peck sits next to me with his feet straight out and hat over his face.
Walker left around midnight after we promised we’d call for the millionth time. Blaire got stuck in traffic and didn’t get in until Walker got home and went there to get a couple of hours sleep. There was nothing she could do here anyway.
I yawn, but sleep won’t come. When I try, all I get is nightmares of Nana being alone in her chair having a heart attack or Hadley’s voice telling me not to call her again.
I’ve almost lost them both in the matter of a few hours. My grip on reality wavers.
Someone turned the lights down a while ago. I turned the television off when they started jabbering about politics.
Fuck that.
I yawn again, and this time, I close my eyes. It’s Hadley’s voice I hear, but I try to imagine her laughter instead. My lips part into a smile. The stress on my shoulders starts to melt away just a little as I live in a fantasy world.
“Gibson family?” The door to the waiting area cracks a little more. A nurse is standing in the stream of light coming from the hall behind her. “Is the Gibson family here?”
“Yeah.” I nudge Peck as I sit upright. “That’s us.”
“She’s awake. You aren’t really supposed to go in at this hour, as visiting hours were over at eight this evening, but we’ll make an exception for a few minutes if you’d like to peek in and say hello.”
“We would,” Peck says.
We follow her down a long corridor and then through the double doors labeled Intensive Care Unit in bright red letters.
My heart beats so hard I swear Peck can hear it as we walk side by side down the hall. The shuffling of papers and the constant yet inconsistent sound of machines beeping keep the air from feeling as stuffy as it smells.
The nurse sticks her head in the room before motioning for us to go in. I make Peck go first.
“Hey,” he says before I can see her. “How ya feeling, Nana?”
I step around the curtain, and my heart sinks.
She’s so pale with an oxygen tube under her nose and various monitors attached to her chest and arms. Her eyes show the strain she’s under.
I grip the side of her bed. She reaches for my hand but can’t move for all the wires, so I reach out and touch hers instead. She squeezes me for all she’s worth.
Peck takes her other hand.
“Nana,” I say, choking back a sob. “What the fuck?”
She tries to shake my hand in an attempt to quiet me. “Stop that.”
Peck and I look at each other and laugh quietly. He brushes away a tear from under his eye.
“If you wanted Blaire to visit, I’m sure you could’ve called,” Peck says. “This was a little dramatic.”
Nana furrows a brow. “Blaire? Here?”
“She’s at Walker’s,” I tell her. “They won’t let any of us in until morning. Well, they let Peck and me come see you for a few because we’re ridiculously handsome …” I grin as she tries to laugh. “Everyone will be here in the morning. They’ve all been worried sick about you.”
She tries to talk, but her throat is too dry.
“Get her water,” Peck says. “Beside you. On the tray.”
I grab a pink pitcher and pour some water in a cup. There’s a straw on the tray, so I add it. Bringing it to Nana’s lips, I help her take a drink.
“Ah,” she mumbles, relaxing back against the pillows. “That’s better.” Her voice is hoarse. “Did you boys have dinner?”
“Will you stop it?” Peck sighs. “You’re in the hospital, and you’re worrying if we’ve eaten.”
“That’s my job,” she says. “You’re getting a little thin.”
“Better get out of here and make me a cheeseball then,” he jokes. “How do you feel? Honestly?”
She considers this. “Like I had a heart attack, I reckon.” She turns to look at me. “Want to explain why you look like you’ve been in a fight?”
I hang my head. “Can we do this later?”
Thankfully, the nurse pokes her head around the curtain. “We doing okay in here?”
I nod. I try to smile but can’t. I can’t find the fucks to pretend everything is fine. It’s not.
I want to scream we almost lost our nana. That the fact we’re even here means we aren’t okay.
“Good,” she says. “Can I get one of you to come here for a minute? I need a signature on a couple of forms.”
“My sister is the power-of-attorney,” I volunteer. “She’ll be here in the morning.”
“That’s fine. If I can get someone to just sign that I gave you these forms, that’s all I need tonight.”
Peck looks at me. “I’ll go.” He brings Nana’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss on her knuckles. “I love you.”
“And I love you, baby. See you in the morning, all right?”
Peck nods. With a look my way, he disappears into the hallway.
“So …” I blow out a breath. “I’m trying to decide if you’re moving in with me or if I’m moving in with you.”
She smacks my hand, but it lacks the gusto of her usual admonishments. “You stop that.”
“Me stop? You sat in a chair and had a heart attack. You’re lucky Sienna stopped by.”
She looks at me. “She did? I don’t remember that.”
“That’s what I heard. Peck came and got me.” I grab a chair beside her IV pole and pull it to the side of her bed. “Do you remember anything?”
“No. The last thing I remember was watching my soap operas. Skylar just found out Octavia had his babies and fled the country.”
“Who’s Skylar?”
“On my show,” she says. “It’s a good one.”
“I bet,” I say, making a face.
She swats me again. This time, she grabs my hand again and holds it in hers. “I want to talk to you.”
The way she says that has my stomach turning inside out. I run my free hand down my pants. “About what?”
“First, we will talk about that black eye.” She winces. “You haven’t looked like this in a long time.”
“Please. Let’s not. Another day, we can talk about it, but I can’t today.”
She looks at me carefully, then nods. “I had a dream the other night,” she says. “I was at a wedding. It was beautiful. Pink flowers and green grass—I think it was outside.”
“Lance?”
“No. You.”
My heart sinks. It’s salt in a wound, an ass fucking with no lube. It hurts, and it’s raw, and if I wasn’t in a hospital, I might yelp from the pain of it all.
“Sorry,” I say. “Not happening for me anytime soon.”
“And why is that?”
I shrug, looking at the window blinds.
“I’m going to tell you something that might make you mad. Or it might upset you, and if it does, I’m sorry, sweet boy. But if I die tonight—”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’ll die at some point, Machlan.”
I look at her. “Can you get on with it and leave out the dying shit.”
She sighs. “I’ve let this go as long as I can. And if I don’t say something, and God forbid, something happens to me, I’ll roll in my grave over and over.”
The beeping of the machines pierces the air, suddenly louder than they were before. I watch Nana fight to find the words.
“We can talk about this later,” I offer, shifting in my seat.
“No, we can’t.” She takes a deep breath. “I know you had a baby with Hadley.”
My blood runs cold. I try to slip my hand out of hers, but she hangs on for all she’s worth.
I shiver, the words resting heavily on my already battered heart. I can’t look at her and see the disappointment I know will
be there. I can’t do it. Not tonight.
“Nana …”
“Something came in the mail while you were in Ohio. It was during that one month out of your whole life when I couldn’t get a hold of you.”
I nod, remembering that month specifically. I couldn’t call her back. I didn’t want to lie to her, and I didn’t want her to hear the stress in my voice because she’d know something was wrong.
“Your mail was forwarded to me, and I opened it by accident,” she says softly. “I’m sorry, Machlan.”
I can’t do this. Not today. Not after everything else.
“Nana, I love you, but I can’t.” My voice is as raw as my insides.
She winces as she moves until she’s comfortable. “I can’t imagine how hard that was for you.”
Staring through the blinds at the lights below, I feel detached from reality. As though this isn’t happening. As though I’m going to wake up and the past few days will be a nightmare.
“I’m not gonna lie,” she says. “The fact you never told me broke my heart.”
I can’t look at her. I stare straight ahead and grip the arm of the chair with my left hand while she holds the right.
“Why wouldn’t you tell me something like this? Why wouldn’t you let me help you?”
I force a swallow. “It wasn’t your responsibility.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean you can’t rely on other people to help you. At least help you make the decision.” She squeezes my hand again. “The part that kills me the most is thinking of you and Hadley alone. It breaks my heart.”
Her body shakes as she cries. I stand and bend over the rail and hug her, her tears pressing into my shirt.
Tears well up in my eyes, too, as I hug her.
“I’m sorry, Nana,” I say.
She pats my back and pulls away. I hand her a tissue, and she blots her eyes.
“I called you the night I got that letter,” she says quietly. “And there was a resolution in your voice. For the first time, you sounded like a man. And I realized you were going to be okay. And you’d make sure Hadley was too.”
Her eyes are crystal clear as she watches me.
“You made the hardest decision a parent can ever make,” she says.
Crave: The Gibson Boys, Book #3 Page 28
