My face presses into his shirt, and the dam finally breaks. I sob into him, hard and ugly and uncontrollable. He holds me like he expected this, like he came ready for it.
“I couldn’t leave you here,” he murmurs against my hair. His voice is low, steady—anchoring. “Not like this.”
I cling to him, fingers digging into his jacket. “They said I just have to wait,” I whisper. “I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to be alone.”
“You won’t be,” he says immediately. No hesitation. No doubt. “Not tonight. Not ever.”
The doctor comes in then, gentle and calm, explaining again that Mrs. D is stable, that they’re monitoring her closely. That there’s nothing more to be done right now. They tell Langston she’ll be moved to a better room shortly and that they’ll callhimdirectly with any change.
I barely register it.
Because Langston turns back to me and cups the back of my head, resting his forehead against mine.
“I’m taking you home,” he says softly. “You need rest.”
I shake my head weakly. “I don’t want to leave her.”
“You’re not abandoning her,” he says. “You’re exhausted. And she’d want you taken care of too.”
Something about the way he says it—like he knows her, like he understands what she means to me—makes my chest cave in all over again.
I squeeze her hand once more, whisper a promise, and let Langston guide me out.
The hallway feels too bright, too loud, my body heavy as we walk. I lean into him without thinking, letting him hold most of my weight.
When we step outside, night air cools my tear-streaked face.
Langston’s car is pulled up near the entrance.
And standing beside it is Jack.
I blink, confused. “Why is Jack here?”
Langston opens the passenger door, one corner of his mouth lifting faintly. “I couldn’t leave the dog in the car by herself.”
My heart stutters.
“The—what?”
I look down.
And there, sitting primly on the front seat like she owns it, is Olga.
For half a second, my brain refuses to process it.
Then I make a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“Oh my God,” I choke.
I scoop her up immediately, burying my face in her scruffy fur as fresh tears spill over. She licks my chin, tail wagging, utterly unbothered by hospitals or panic or heartbreak.
“I was so worried about you,” I whisper into her neck. “You little menace.”
Langston rounds the car and slides into the driver’s seat. When I finally look up at him, my face is a mess, my hands shaking around the dog.
“Why did you do this?” I ask quietly. “You didn’t have to.”
He reaches over, cups my cheek gently, thumb brushing away a tear.
