Susan leaned back in her chair, exhaustion suddenly overwhelming her. She pulled out her phone and looked at her last meaningful text exchange with Paul. After Michelle’s service, she’d told him she was thinking of him.
They weren’t the words of someone who was in love or committed to a special relationship. They were the words of someone who was putting her feelings in a box and hoping for the best.
Now she started typing again.
Hi, Paul. I’m at the hospital in Polson. Matt was in an accident. He’s in a coma, and they don’t know if he’ll wake up. I’m sitting here watching Lynda fall apart and all I can think about is how fragile everything is. How we wait for the right time to say what matters, and there might not be a right time. There might not be any time at all.
She stared at the message for a long moment, her thumb hovering over the send button.
I love you, she added. I should have said it sooner. I should have said it the first time I realized it was true. Life’s too short to wait for perfect moments.
She pressed send before she could talk herself out of it.
Across the waiting room, Kathleen was praying quietly, her rosary beads moving through her fingers. Isabel sat with her eyes closed, her lips moving in her own silent conversation with whatever she believed in.
Susan closed her eyes too, but she wasn’t praying. She was remembering Paul’s smile when he looked at her. The way his hand felt in hers. The sound of his laugh when she said something that surprised him.
She was holding onto those memories like lifelines, understanding for the first time how precious they were. How easily they could be taken away.
When her phone buzzed in her hand, she looked down to see Paul’s response.
I’m leaving Sapphire Bay now. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I love you too. We’ll talk when I get there.
Susan felt something loosen in her chest, just slightly. Just enough to breathe.
Chapter 27
Paul pushed through the automatic doors of St. Joseph Medical Center just after ten o’clock that night. Although the highway was covered in fresh snow, it was mostly empty. It wasn’t the sort of night you went anywhere, unless there was an emergency.
Susan’s text had gutted him. Not just the news about Matt, although that was terrible, but the raw honesty in her words. I love you. I should have said it sooner.
He’d been protecting himself for so long, keeping everyone at arm’s length, that he’d almost missed the fact that Susan had been doing the same thing. Two people circling each other cautiously, both too damaged to trust that anything good could last.
The waiting room wasn’t hard to find. He followed the signs to the ICU, his footsteps echoing in the too-bright corridor. When he rounded the corner, he saw them immediately: three women clustered together in uncomfortable plastic chairs, their faces drawn with worry and exhaustion.
Susan looked up first, and the relief that flooded her expression made his chest ache.
She stood as he approached, and he didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms, feeling her body sag against him as if she’d been holding herself upright through sheer force of will.
“I’m here,” he said quietly. “I’ve got you.”
For a long moment, she just stood there, her face pressed against his shoulder. Then she pulled back slightly, wiping at her eyes.
“Thank you for coming. You didn’t have to drive all this way.”
“Yes, I did.” Paul met her gaze steadily. “Where else would I be?”
Another person walked into the waiting room, and Paul turned to acknowledge Susan’s friends. Isabel offered a tired smile. Kathleen’s fingers were wrapped around her rosary beads.
“Is there any news?” Paul asked.
“Lynda’s with him now.” Susan’s voice was hoarse. “They let her in about twenty minutes ago. The surgeon said Matt survived the surgery, but the brain injury is severe. They’ve put him in a medically induced coma.”
Paul absorbed this, his mind automatically thinking about the implications. He’d lost someone he loved in an accident. It was different circumstances, different injuries, but the same terrible waiting to see if they’d survive.
“How’s Lynda holding up?” he asked.
“About as well as you’d expect.” Isabel stood and stretched, wincing. “She’s terrified. Tomorrow, we’ll have to talk to her about the wedding.”
