by Kennedy Ryan
Hypovolemic shock. IV resuscitation. Isotonic crystalloid.
None of it means anything, even though I’ve heard it all before.
“Banner,” Zo gasps. He opens his eyes briefly, but they roll like a wild horse’s. He waves a limp hand in the air, searching for something. Searching for me. “Bannini?”
I grab his hand. All my processes are delayed, shock and panic making the air thick and hot as soup.
“Sorry,” he gasps, lips tinged blue, veins bulging in his neck.
“Do something,” I scream, rivulets of hot, wet pain staining my cheeks and neck and chest. “You have to do something. He’s . . . oh, God, just . . . do . . .”
My words break on a sob
“Ma’am, we’re giving him fluids,” one of the techs says. “We’re limited in what we can or should do until we have a better assessment of what’s actually going on. Especially considering the complexity of his condition, we might do more harm than good.”
“Banner, listen,” Zo says, his voice a wisp.
“Stop trying to talk.” I press my fingers over his lips and lay my forehead to his. “Just . . . just breathe, Zo. We’re almost there.”
“So sorry,” he says again, barely audible. Tears trickle from his eyes and into his ears. “About Foster.”
I pull in a startled breath to hear Jared’s name on his lips. I don’t know if the tears are for how he used his illness to keep Jared and me apart or because he hurts that I want Jared. Both possibilities drive a stake through my heart.
“No, no, no.” I press my face to his chest, still frail beneath his tuxedo. “Don’t be sorry. En las buenas.”
Through thick.
His eyes flicker open just long enough to catch and hold mine, a small smile playing on his wide mouth.
“En las malas,” he whispers.
Through thin.
His eyelids drop, like they’re too weary for even one more second, and he’s gone again.
“Zo!” I squeeze his hand and tap his face gently. “Don’t you dare die, you selfish bastard. Don’t you dare . . .”
Sobs consume my words, my eyes so blurred and burned with tears, I can’t see in front of me. I wail like the siren overhead and shake with frustration and fear.
“We’re here,” one of them says.
Before, everything seemed slowed, time and motion gooped and dragging. Now it’s greased and rapid. A flurry of activity with every word quick and staccato. Every motion is a blur. They wheel Zo away within seconds of our arrival, and I’m left standing in the middle of the waiting room alone, incongruous in my dress and heels.
“Banner!” Mama comes into the waiting room, followed by my father, Anna, my niece, and my sister Camilla. “Where is he?”
“They just took him.” My throat closes, and I can’t say anything more. My fears feel like boulders on my shoulders and pebbles in my belly.
Mama doesn’t say anything, but the look she gives me repeats her insult from earlier.
Puta.
She and I stare at one another, knowing that the man fighting for his life is not the man I love. At least not the way Mama wants me to, but I don’t live any part of my life to satisfy other people, and I’m damn tired of conducting my love life by the dictates of others.
“Mi niña,” Papa says, gathering me close.
I fall into his arms, into his familiar scent. If sawdust has a smell, my father carries it, from always being on his construction work sites. It reminds me of how hard he worked to provide the best life for us that he could. His arms remind me of how he has constantly supported my dreams, even when he couldn’t see that high, couldn’t imagine Ivy League colleges or living this fast-paced life surrounded by obscenely wealthy people talented beyond what the average person can comprehend. He supported me through everything. He supports me now.
I’m still buried in Papa’s chest when my mother’s voice cuts into the small slice of peace I’ve managed to find in the last hour’s chaos.
“You have some nerve coming here,” she snaps.
I lift and turn my head, shocked to see Jared standing in the waiting room, changed into jeans and a Wharton School of Business sweatshirt.
With studied patience, he holds my mother’s stare and absorbs her harsh words without replying—a feat for him, I know.
“I, uh. . .” he clears his throat and extends a small bag to me “. . . thought you might like to change in case you’re here for a while. Iris sent some things she thought might work.”
My father triangulates a look between Jared, me, and finally the angry flush of my mother’s face.
“Jared, hey. Thank you.” I walk over and take the bag with a grateful smile. My body hums being this close to him. Not for sex. Just to be held and cared for by him. That’ll have to wait.
“Papa, this is my friend Jared.” I ignore Mama’s scoff at the word friend. “Jared, my father, Marco, sister Camilla, and niece Anna.”
“Hi.” Jared offers a slight smile and inclination of his head to each family member.
It’s like we’re inside a drum the air is so tight, charged with tension and questions. And from my sister, curiosity and appreciation. Her gaze, filled with interest, drags over Jared’s tall, athletic frame and the chiseled lines of his face, the rumpled fairness of his hair. There was a time when I would have deferred, assumed that any man my sister expressed interest in would prefer her, but not with this one. And even though I have a lot to explain, I want her to know from the beginning that this one is off limits. More than anything, I just need him to hold me, and that we can’t do in the open just yet.
“Jared.” I place a hand on his arm to capture his attention. “Can I speak to you for a sec?”
He nods, looking slightly relieved.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell my family. I hold up my cell. “If the doctor comes in the next minute or so, just call.”
Their speculation chases us down the hall, but at least for the next few minutes I don’t care. I duck into an empty hospital room, drag Jared in behind me by the hand, and close the door. As soon as we’re inside, his arms surround me. I drop my head to the curve of his neck and fight back an onslaught of tears. It’s been so much, for so long, and tonight seems to be nudging me over the edge. A few tears leak into the warmth of his skin, and one large hand cups my face and pushes my hair back.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, searching my face. “Let it go, Ban.”
His words so considerate and him being here just like I need, it makes it feel like for just a moment I can let go. That the burden I’ve been carrying for the last few months, the one that has cracked me in places and sometimes been too heavy, I can set aside.
“Oh, God, Jared.” Tears drown my words for long moments while I try to pull it together, but I can’t stem the flow. “I was so scared in the ambulance. I thought he was going to . . .”
I can’t say the word, the one I rarely even allowed myself to even think for the last three months.
“He’ll be okay,” Jared assures me. “I know it. That man is not going out like that. He’ll stick around if only to make my life miserable.”
That coaxes a small smile from me as he knew it would. I link our fingers and look up at him, taking in the handsome face and the rare tenderness he reserves for pretty much only me.
“I think the two of you will be great friends one day,” I tell him, and I mean it. Under the right circumstances and with some time, I could see them appreciating the differences in the other.
Jared conveys his skepticism about that with one lifted brow.
“I hope we’ll get the chance.” He turns me toward the small bathroom in the empty two-bed suite. “Go change so we can get back to your family. I have a hard enough road ahead with them.”
That could be true, especially with my mother, but I want him to know that it won’t change the way I feel.
I’m poised to go change with my back facing the bathroom door.
“I love you,” I
tell him again and turn into the bathroom without waiting for a response, but Jared’s not letting me off that easily. The door opens just as I’m unzipping my dress.
“You can’t just say that and leave,” he says, his voice uneven, his eyes lit with something wholly new. Something my words gave birth to. “I’m not used to it yet.”
I slip the dress off, grateful that there is at least a strapless bra, and slip on the T-shirt and yoga pants Iris sent. She’s much smaller than I am, so I’m glad she chose stretchy clothes.
“Say it again.” He advances deeper into the room until he stands right in front of me. “I need to hear it again.”
“I love you,” I say, my voice sober and honest. “I think I have for a long time.”
He cups my cheek and kisses my hair.
“Me, too,” he says, the look in his eyes belying the causal tone of his voice. “Since senior year, to be exact.”
My phone rings, stealing our smiles. It’s my mom.
“Hey, Mama. Any word?”
“The doctor just came out,” she says, her voice stiff with disapproval. “If you can spare the time to hear what he has to say.”
I don’t even respond. Don’t bother reminding her that sparing time is all I’ve done for the last three months. I don’t have to defend myself to my mother or anyone. The only person I need to completely understand is Zo, and I think now he does. I hope I’ll get the chance to find out.
As soon as we rejoin my family in the waiting room, the doctor launches into his update.
“Who came in with him?” the doctor asks, looking over all the faces.
“Um, it was me,” I say hastily. “I did all I could think to do. I thought he would be okay because he just finished his chemo, but I guess some of his organ functions are still compromised. It was too much and I’m so sorry. If he—”
“You probably saved his life,” the doctor cuts in, the look he gives me kind and a balm to some of the guilt that never seems too far away. “If we’d had to figure out all the things you gave us and hadn’t gotten in touch with Stanford right away, we probably would have lost him. He was literally in the process of dying. His organs had begun shutting down.”
I unconsciously grab Jared’s hand at the doctor’s words, at how close I came to losing my best friend. I force my breaths in and out slowly.
“We’re flushing his body with a saline solution right now,” the doctor continues. “He’s resting and will be here for a few days recovering, but he should continue steadily improving.”
“When can we see him?” I ask, needing to see for myself that Zo is okay.
“You can see him now.” His glance roves all the eager faces lined up. “Just two at a time, please.”
I squeeze Jared’s hand and let go, walking toward where the doctor said Zo was resting. I don’t even check to see who the second person is who follows me but make my way straight to Zo’s side. He’s asleep, but I still have to talk to him.
“You scared me to death,” I whisper and grab his hand, which is huge but still skeletal compared to its former size.
“Scared you so badly you ran off with your new boyfriend the first chance you got?” My mother asks in our native tongue from behind me.
I send her a quelling look over my shoulder.
“Mama, you don’t know what you’re talking about and now is not the time.”
“When will be the time, Bannini?” she asks, her eyes saddened, angry. “This man loves you.”
“And I love him,” I snap, turning to give her the full force of my expression. “Do you think I would have gone through the last three months if I didn’t love him? That I would be prepared to do it again when he has stem cell replacement if I didn’t love him?”
“Oh, that is your idea of love?” Mama expels a harsh laugh. “Cheating on him like a common whore?”
I’m quiet because I cannot fully deny her accusation. I did cheat on Zo, and as much as I love Jared, as sure as I am that we belong together, I will never condone what I did or how I hurt Zo.
“I see you have no defense,” Mama continues. “You slept with him? With this gringo?”
“Yes, Mama,” I answer softly, tears stinging my eyes. “I did.”
“You admit it.” She shakes her head, a layer of disappointment over her disapproval. “I raised you better than that. That you would shame our family, shame yourself this way is unacceptable.”
“I know, Mama. I’ve apologized to Zo.”
“He knows?” Mama asks. “So not just this disease but a broken heart, too?”
God, I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. Every word is like another heavy clump of dirt on a grave, burying me alive.
“Stop.” The one word comes from behind me, from Zo. It’s thin and weak, like him, but there is no mistaking the steel in it. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
“But, Zo,” Mama says, making her way over to the bed. “She cheated on you? Was unfaithful to you?”
“Almost dying has a way of bringing things into focus,” he says. “She’s not in love with me.”
A rueful smile tilts his beautiful mouth.
“I can admit that now,” he says, sharing a look with me. “She may not be in love with me, but she loves me. She chose me when I needed her to. Tonight is not the first time she has saved my life, and I won’t have anyone, not even you, Mama, speak against her.”
He shifts his tired, intent stare from my mother to me.
“Good people may do bad things, wrong things,” he says. “But they are still good people, still capable of doing amazing things, and Banner has more than proven that.”
“Zo,” I choke out. “You don’t have to—”
“I have not always done the right thing, either, Bannini,” he cuts in softly. “I forgive you. Forgive yourself, and then forgive me for keeping you from the one you do love. The one who loves you. I knew it as soon as he stepped foot in your house that night.”
A harsh laugh briefly disrupts his shallow breathing.
“Hell, I don’t think he even knew at that point how he felt,” he says. “And in a way, I’ve been fighting it ever since.”
I stuff down a sob. I didn’t realize how much I needed this. How the burden of my infidelity was like a stone tied around my neck, something I’ve dragged around for months. The weight lifts and I feel freer than I have in such a long time. And my heart swells with the same affection I have had from him from the beginning, from that first day in the Bagley office when he plucked me from obscurity and set me on a course that determined a future exceeding even what I had ever dreamed.
“Thank you, Zo.” I lean down to kiss his cheek. “For everything.”
He is already drifting off again, succumbing to the medication they have given him to force rest on his body. I turn to find Mama watching me with wide, wet eyes. There is not forgiveness there, not yet, but at least now there is more understanding.
“We should go,” I say stiffly. “Let him rest.”
Mama slips a rosary from her purse, tagged with a silver cross, and wraps it around Zo’s hand prone on the hospital bed. We walk out at the same time, both stopping when we see Jared seated on the floor against the wall facing the door. He pulls himself up, standing to his full, imposing height. I don’t think about Mama beside me or even Zo on the other side of the door. I just know where I belong. I link my arms behind his neck and press myself into the familiar strength of his body, almost bursting into tears when he presses me tighter, buries his head in the hair at my neck. We stay that way for long minutes. I hear the quick steps of my mother’s retreat, leaving us alone, but I don’t pull away. Not yet.
“She’s still not a fan of me, huh?” He laughs into the curve of my neck and rubs my back soothingly.
“She’s not exactly a fan of me right now either, but she’ll come around.”
“I hope she does, but if she doesn’t, we’re still happening.” His expression sobers. “Too many people, too many times, have come be
tween us. Not again.”
This man, this beautiful, unattainable man is mine. And he loves me like a Mack truck—the huge ones that just keep coming and don’t stop for anything in their path. Being the object of such singular focus can be overwhelming, but it’s also the best feeling in the world.
“Are you saying you want this for good?” I ask, more confident than I’ve ever been.
“For good?” He frowns and gives a quick shake of his head. “For good is too sanitized. I want your dirt and your pain and your darkness. Your weakness and your flaws.”
He sprinkles kisses over my cheeks and nose, leaving adoration everywhere he touches me.
“I don’t want you for good, Banner,” he says. “I want you forever.”
I gasp at hearing the future in his words, of the picture he’s painting.
“I love you,” he tells me again. “I didn’t even think I was capable of saying that, much less feeling it, but I feel it for you.”
He shifts to look down at me.
“I couldn’t say that word even to myself for a long time because I thought I had to be absolutely sure of you.”
“And are you?” I slip my arms around his waist. “Sure of me, I mean.”
“Yes, but mostly I’m sure of myself. I love you, and even if you didn’t love me back, I would still want what’s best for you.” He flicks a look over my shoulder at the closed hospital door. ”I think that’s the way he loves you. He loves you enough to let you go.”
“And could you let me go?” I ask, mischief and hope twined around the question. “If I tried to get away?”
He looks down at me, those glacially blue eyes glinting with the possessiveness that I never thought I would want but from him turns me on.
“Why don’t you try to get away from me again and we’ll find out?”
We both laugh into a tender kiss because we know how much he enjoys the chase.
And that I’d let him catch me.
39
Banner
