I shake my head. “Not really. I don’t want to see him. I don’t want this to be real. It’s like my worst fear just came true.”
He stops walking, pulling me into a hug. “I promise it’s all going to be okay.”
“You can’t make that promise. You’re not a doctor.”
“No, but I won’t let you not be okay. Besides, you’ve grown so much over the last few months. I don’t think there’s anything that could break you.”
His comfort brings a little peace to my heart. He’s right. Between overcoming my breakup with Austin, holding the ranch together, and having Jax by my side, I don’t think there’s anything I can’t handle.
I kiss him on the cheek. “Even if I can handle it, I don’t want to lose my dad.”
“We’re talking about the man who has woken up at four a.m. every day for almost forty years. He’s not going anywhere.” His words pull a choked laugh from me as Jax places his hand on my lower back. “Come on. We’ll go see him and prove to you he’s going to be fine.”
He laces his fingers in mine and doesn’t let me release them, even when we join Mom, Nana, and Charlie in the hospital room.
Dad is hooked up to all kinds of IVs and drips, an oxygen mask strapped to his face. One of the machines by his bedside beeps steadily as the red lines spike and plummet in a manner that must mean something to the nurse who’s watching it closely while the doctor speaks with Mom and Nana.
I try to listen, but the meaningless acronyms and complicated terms go in one ear and out the other. All I want to know is if Dad is going to be okay.
The doctor glances in our direction as the three of us newcomers stand awkwardly in the doorway, absorbing the sight in front of us.
“I’m sorry. If you’re not family, you’re going to have to leave.” The doctor waves a dismissive hand. “There are too many people here.”
Jax pulls me toward him, kissing the crown of my head as he whispers, “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
When he unlaces our fingers and leavesthe room, my heart cracks. I believe I can handle this on my own, but I’ve also learned over the last few months that sometimes it’s much better to wade through rough waters with someone you love by your side, and gosh, do I love Jax.
I watch Dad, lying in bed as only a shell of the man I know. Charlie instantly pulls me to his side, but he’s not nearly as steady as Jax. The pain whirling in his body is evident, and I can sense his fear and heartache. This hug is for him just as much as it is for me.
I wrap an arm around him, playing my usual part of holding everyone together, even though I’m unraveling too.
When the doctor stops talking, she announces, “We’re doing the best we can with Mr. Rhodes. We have a few more tests to run on him and then he needs to rest. Y’all can come back and visit him one at a time in a couple hours.”
Mom and Nana walk toward us, but my strength falters, and I can’t bring myself to leave as I watch Dad’s lungs fill and deflate with the oxygen from the mask covering half his face. The awful beeping from the machine echoes in my ears, and I want nothing more than to be out of this room, but my feet are firmly rooted to the floor.
“Come on, Lo.” Charlie tugs at my hand. “We’ll come back.”
“We can grab some lunch or something,” Mom suggests, trying to sound chipper.
Nana nods. “There’s a good sandwich shop nearby.”
As all of this happens around me, I can’t bring myself to leave my spot until Jax steps in the doorway. “Freckles, it’s time to go. We’ll come back soon, okay?”
His voice is soothing, his touch gentle. I relish his grounding presence the second he pulls me into his chest. In the safety of his arms, I realize I don’t need to keep ittogether right now. After years of putting on a face and pushing myself until I’m buried, I let the tears flow and slowly allow myself to fall apart.
My sandwich still sits on the table in front of me, hardly eaten. With the results of Dad’s tests still lingering, it’s impossible to think about food.
“I can’t keep waiting here.” My chair screeches as I stand. Several other people in the crowded waiting room look up at me, but I don’t care. “I’m going crazy.”
Jax tilts his head to the side. “Let’s go for a walk.”
I take his outstretched hand and follow him down the hallway in the opposite direction of Dad’s room. Mom and Nana’s gazes lock on our connected fingers, but they don’t say anything, and I don’t have the energy to address it right now.
When we’ve walked in silence for several minutes, Jax finally asks, “How are you doing with all of this?”
My instincts are to put on a brave face and shield him from what I’m really feeling, but I recognize that’s not the girl I want to be anymore. It felt good to cry in his arms earlier, and right now, the thing that would help me the most would be to tell Jax about all my fears and have him hold my hand through them.
I release a deep breath and squeeze his hand, admitting, “I’m not doing great, but I’d like to think I’m doing better than the old Lauren.”
