Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
I wait for a beat, then another, but after a full minute—during which the pigeon is frightened away from his sandwich by two bigger, scragglier pigeons from a rougher part of town—I accept that he isn’t going to respond.
I tell myself that’s fine. Normal, even.
But nothing feels fine, and as I leave the hospital, I decide to take the subway home instead of a taxi. Navigating the train lines will keep my brain occupied and take longer than a cab. Hopefully, by the time I emerge aboveground uptown, there will be good news about Margaret.
But forty minutes later, as I wander toward our building, my cell remains silent,
And I remain certain that all my happily ever after dreams are about to come crashing down around me.
nineteen
HUNTER
I’m in hell.
Sitting beside my mother’s still form, not knowing if she’ll ever open her eyes again, if I’ll ever hear her voice or be able to tell her how much she means to me, is pure fucking hell. Combined with the general PTSD-tinged experience of being in a hospital ICU, I would like nothing more than someone to lean on as I sit vigil.
I want Elaina here with me.
I want it so badly, it turns my stomach.
Whether she’s been lying to me or not, I have to get a fucking grip. I’m not the type of man who falls apart when I’m on my own. I excel at being on my own. I’ve never met a situation I couldn’t handle, solo, and the fact that I doubted my ability to navigate this without Elaina for a single second is all the proof I need that a serious reevaluation is in order.
Even if she had no idea what my mother was planning, it’s time to put some emotional space between myself and this woman who’s slipped past more of my defenses in a few weeks than other women have managed in months of dating. We’re moving way too fast. Pumping the brakes will be good for both of us, give us time to make sure we’re actually a good fit before we rush into a long-term commitment.
And if she has been lying to me…
I push the thought aside and force myself to hit the cafeteria before it closes, grabbing a stale turkey sandwich. I eat it without tasting a single bite, then return to my mother’s side, grateful for the nurse who drops off a pillow and blanket on her way to clock out for the night.
I don’t expect to sleep, but the pillow makes the stiff armchair slightly more comfortable, and I appreciate the blanket in the chill, conditioned air.
I only close my eyes for a second, but when the steady beep of the heart monitor pulls me from a fitful rest hours later, pale sunlight is visible through the drawn curtains behind me.
I lift my head, wincing as my neck twinges in protest, and for a second, I’m not sure what woke me. But then I look up to see Mom’s eyes open and fixed on my face.
“Mom? You’re awake.” My voice cracks as I lean forward, taking her hand. “Can you hear me? Do you remember what happened?”
“Hunter.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but it’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. “So good to see you…baby.”
I fight the sob rising in my chest. “Good to see you, too, Mom. Let me get the nurse. They’ll want to check on you now that you’re awake.” But before I can reach for the call button, the new nurse on the morning shift—Linda, according to her name tag—appears in the doorway.
“Well, hello there! I saw our stats were looking better on the monitor, and wanted to come check on you Ms. Mendelssohn.” Linda moves to the bed with efficient grace. “So happy to see you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”
My mom’s lips curve in a stiff smile. “I don’t know about that. But I’m…alive.”
“That you are,” Linda chirps, her positive energy encouraging. “And the fact that you came to on your own without any intervention on our end is a great sign! Now, let’s check your vitals, and then I’ll go call Dr. Garrett. He asked to be alerted as soon as there was any change in your status.”
I watch as Linda performs a series of checks, my heart in my throat. She tests Mom’s vitals, then her grip strength and her pupil response, before asking her to wiggle her toes, praising her every step of the way.
Each small success eases the tension in my chest.
“Amazing work,” Linda says, her smile even wider than it was before. “Dr. Garrett is going to be thrilled with this report.” She adjusts something on one of the monitors. “Is there anything I can get you before I make that call? Another pillow? More blankets? Fresh socks? We have some fluffier styles that might keep your toes cozier than the grippy ones.”