His eyes lifted to mine—storm-blue, raw. “I missed you, Rio Mio. You can’t even imagine.”
His hand traced from my cheek to my neck, down to my shoulder, like he needed the touch to convince himself I was real.
“I missed you, too.” It came out as a whisper. Words weren’t enough this time. They never would be.
The sky outside had brightened, and the hospital bustled with morning activity. We rose, tossed our cups, and headed toward the ward.
“The doctor will be here soon and we’re about to wake him. You’ll have to wait outside and we’ll call you when we’re ready,” a nurse told us.
We stepped back into the ward corridor.
“I’ll see you in a minute,” I said, pointing toward the restroom, the bad coffee pressing uncomfortably against my bladder.
“That coffee,” Owen muttered, following me as he disappeared into the men’s room on the other side of the hall.
A doctor emerged from Walter’s room fifteen minutes later. I’d used the time till then to send updates to Ruby, Simon, Finn, and June, knowing they’d get them when it wasn’t an ungodly early hour. I kept it brief—just the facts, just letting June know I needed someone to cover for me—but as I typed, I realized that my hands weren’t shaking like they had when I’d texted last night.
The doctor’s gaze shifted between us. “You’re the grandchildren?”
“Yes,” Owen replied, flashing me a small, quick smile.
“Walter is awake and seems to be doing well. The episode is behind him, but we’d like to keep him here for two more days to monitor him and ensure he’s stable. We’ll also discuss options for ongoing treatment in the community.”
“Can we see him?” Owen asked.
The doctor gestured toward the room.
Walter’s bed was slightly raised and fewer tubes were connected to him. The monitor next to his bed displayed steady waves.
“Grandpa.” Owen placed a hand over Walter’s.
Walter opened his eyes.
Tears clogged my throat.
“Owen,” Walter said in a hoarse voice.
Owen’s jaw tightened, his chest rising as he fought through an overcoming emotion.
“Rio,” Walter said, moving his gaze to me.
I smiled and nodded, afraid that if I opened my mouth, sobs would spill out instead of words.
“So, I’m not in hell,” Walter muttered. “If Rio’s here.”
Both Owen and I laughed, flooded with relief. Walter was Walter still.
“You thought I died, too?” Walter eyed Owen. “Not so fast, Son. My parents lived to be ninety-seven.”
“I’m glad to hear,” Owen said, squeezing his hand.
Walter’s gaze was sharp when he shifted to look at me again. “You look pale. Maybe they should get you a bed, too.”
I bent down and carefully hugged him. “We were so worried, Walter. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“I’ll try,” he said as I straightened.
“So, you had to fly across the ocean just to check in on me?” Walter quipped at Owen.
