"I'm not going anywhere." His voice leaves no room for argument.
She sighs in defeat, waving her white flags in surrender. "If it's okay with Grace," she says on a breath.
"It is," I confirm.
She nods her head again. Walking further in the room she takes the clipboard at the foot of my mom's hospital bed. Her eyes scan over the charts as she flips through the pages. "I always ask, good news or bad news first?"
"How bad is the bad news?" My voice sounds small, childlike.
She offers me another smile out of sympathy but it does nothing for me. "With comas we don't have a clear timeframe. It could take days or weeks. The unknown is the most terrible part, and I wish I could give you an answer but I'm afraid I can't."
"Okay," I swallow, "the unknown." I swallow again, the lump in my throat not disappearing but forming larger. "Is there any other bad news?"
"I assume you are aware of your mother's drug use." I nod my head. "Are you aware of the fact that she has suffered a respiratory arrest due to her overdose?" I nod my head again, this time stiffly. "I'm not going to sugar coat this for you, Grace, your mother was very close to death. It's a miracle she didn't pass." My heart clenches so hard it feels as if it's bleeding out from the pressure. "But your mother does not stand a chance for full recovery if she continues with her drug use. When a patient wakes from a coma it takes within six months to a year to regain their normal or close to normal lung function. If this were to happen to her again within that given timeframe I'm afraid I would be giving much graver news."
Death.
I inhale a sharp breath that burns my lungs. "And the good news?"
"The good news is your mother came in the nick of time. I can't express the importance of time when someone overdoses. And now, only time will tell when she wakes."
"They never told me where she was found. Do you know?"
"At her home in the living area."
Does that mean she had a friend over and they had called to save her? "And who called it in?"
"Mr. Alexander."
The blood drains from my face as I go impossibly still.
"First name," Oak demands in a gruff tone.
She raises a shocked brow at him before answering, "Steven. Steven Alexander."
My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. My tongue feels like lead inside my mouth. And I swear on everything that is holy I feel as if I can't fucking breath.
What the fuck was he doing with my mother when he had no reason to be there?
"Are you sure about that?" I hardly recognize Oak's voice when he asks the question. It's darker, rougher.
She nods her head. "He's actually here," she informs us and my eyes bulge out of my head. "Did you not see him in the waiting room?"
I shake my head because I can't find my voice. And I'm afraid once I do the only thing I will be able to do is scream.
"Then he must've went to the cafeteria," she hums thoughtfully. "He expressed the relationship he has with your family." Her eyes become sympathetic once again. And I want to murder Steven because he had no right at all telling my personal business. That has to go against ethical law. "He wanted to stay until he could talk to you. He said he wants to help in any way that he can."
The onlyhelpSteven can give me is by getting the fuck out of my life.
Oak becomes as hard as ice behind me. And I know if I am to look in his eyes they will be cold and cutting.
Sensing the change in the room the doctor sees herself out before telling me she'll keep me posted with updates on my mom's health.
When the door shuts, leaving it to be just the two of us, and mom, I turn in Oak's hold.
And I’m right.
As I tilt my head back to see his eyes they're just as cutting and cold as I thought they would be. Besides the tick in his jaw his expression is stoic.
