My thumb trembles as I swipe to answer. "H-Hello?"
"Hello, is this Paul O'Connor?"
"Yes," I say, voice weak and tightening with panic. "Yes, this is Paul."
"Hi, Paul," the man says gently. "This is Mike fromSt. Brigid's Medical Center. We have a patient here by the name of Sophie Bracken."
The floor drops out from under me. The world tilts. I feel dizzy and sick.
Sophie.
Sophie's in the hospital.
"Sophie—" I choke out.
"Yes," he continues softly. "We had her records from her oncologist sent over, and you're listed as her emergency contact."
I don't think. I don't hesitate. I'm already moving to grab my car keys.
"I'm on my way."
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Callum
It's been exactly fifty-four minutes since Sophie left my arms. I count because that's the only thing I can focus on in this suffocating waiting room. People keep coming in and out. The storm still rages outside. I hear complaints about the temperature dropping, enough to create a slick sludge on the roads.
It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except that Sophie is somewhere in this building, suffering, fighting for her life—and it's all my fault.
The wonderful memories of the weekend flash across my eyes like a horror movie. What was so sweet has turned sour, now knowing that at any point in our day, she could have come in contact with the germs ravaging her body.
I was careless. I didn't consider whether I should let the love of my life—with a compromised immune system from the chemotherapy she endures every other Tuesday—be exposed to so many people at the zoo, the museum, or the hotel.
I lived in a fantasy world for a weekend, and now reality crashes in. Sophie's paying the price. She trusted me, and I failed her. The guilt of moving from happiness to fear is suffocating.
I glance at my mom, sitting in the chair next to me. One hand is clutching a clear quartz, the other rests on my shoulder, while her eyes are closed in meditation. I briefly wonder if this is how she felt with my dad, and then realize that she never even had the chance.
He was gone before they got to the hospital.
The guilt claws at my stomach, a tearing, violent feeling thatmakes me wonder how embarrassed I'd feel if I vomited right on the floor of this waiting room in front of all these people. Probably not embarrassed, to be quite honest. I think I'm past that point. All I feel is fear and guilt, and all I need is for Sophie to be okay.
If she wakes up and hates me putting her life in danger, screams at me, pushes me away... I wouldn't even care because she'd be alive, she'd be breathing.
I'd take it all if it meant she'd be healthy.
I glance down at the watch on my arm—fifty-nine minutes. Almost a full hour without my girl, and it feels like I haven't seen her in days. I link my hands behind my head, pressing hard and searching for pain, a punishment for my carelessness.
I press harder when it's not enough, gritting my teeth until they could crack, and I curl my fingers to dig my blunt nails into my skin.
"Callum," my mom murmurs, reaching her hand to grab mine and gently unknotting them. "You will not find relief through pain."
She's right. Of course, she's right, but I don't want relief. I want to hurt on the outside as much as I'm hurting within. This bone-deep fear is gutting me, and I'll sit in it because that's what I deserve. I deserve this terror. I deserve worse. I want to claw at my chest, and I want to roar with frustration at myself.
I want to feel the depth of this terror because Sophie is hurting, and I can do nothing to help her.
And it's all my fucking fault.
"Callum!"
