“She’s going to need you,” the woman added. “Zaila, I mean. That girl was close to her folks.”
I nodded. Based on what Zaila had shared about her early life, it hadn’t been easy. Her adoption had been a dream, so I hoped losing a second parent wouldn’t ruin all the progress she’d made.
ICU waiting rooms were a linoleum-coated purgatory that reminded me of Karl’s death, and the absolute last place I wanted to spend the night. I steeled myself as I hurried down the corridor toward the figure I recognized, huddled in a chair in the room’s corner.
“Hey,” I called softly as I entered.
Zaila jerked upright, shadows pooled under her eyes. “You came.”
I crouched before her, knees protesting. “Always.”
Her laugh sounded broken. “Your meeting…”
“Was ridiculous and means nothing.” I cupped her face. Cold. Too cold. “You should’ve called.”
“I…think I left my phone at the house.” Her thumb brushed my wrist. “And…well, I was just processing.”
“Processing what?” I asked. But the grief in her eyes told me. Her mother wasn’t going to make it. Without thought, I rose and scooped her up. Once she was settled in my lap, with her head against my chest, I said, “Tell me.”
“MVD crisis. She’s…” Her voice splintered. “I can’t lose her, Gunnar. I’m not ready. I haven’t gotten over Dad.”
I pressed my lips to her hair. Lavender and salt. “I’m here. However long it takes.”
Her fingers dug into my forearm. “Don’t you dare leave.”
“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from you, Zaila. Wild fucking horses.”
A little while later, she slept fitfully in an uncomfortable chair, her head on my shoulder. This. This fragile trust. This messy, beautiful collision of mismatched pieces. It was everything.
I’d built arenas. Won championships. None of it mattered compared to the weight of her in my arms.
“Love you,” I whispered into her hair.
She stirred. “Hmm?”
“Rest.”
“Glad you’re here. I needed you.”
“And I always need you, Zaila.”
Chapter 27
Zaila
Later that evening, Gunnar’s arm slipped around my waist, anchoring me as Dr. Khatri entered the waiting room to perch on the plastic chair opposite us.
“I’m sorry, Zaila. Your mother’s heart... It’s failing. We’ve done everything we can.”
The words landed like a physical blow. “How long?” I choked out.
Dr. Khatri’s eyes were kind. “We’ve already had a Code Blue, as you know.”
I nodded, firming my chin so it wouldn’t wobble.
“She’s stable but skirting the edge of another episode. So…I’d say hours. Maybe a day. You’re welcome to come back now, while she’s awake. Please try to say your goodbyes.”
My legs were as unstable as a newborn colt’s as Gunnar guided me past the ICU double doors and to the chair by Mom’s bed. “I’ll give you some time,” he murmured with a kiss to my temple.
