Warmth against darkness.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
This was grief. Heavy, dark, soul-crushing. But at the same time, it didn’t feel real. Jordan was lying right there the whole time.
His strong chest rose and fell with each, life giving breath. His eyes were closed, and sometimes the lids fluttered wildly. When they did, she’d lay her palm over his heart and tell him she loved him. She’d talk to him about nothing, about everything, until the fluttering stopped.
The doctors had told her he almost hadn’t made it. When Dex drove her behind the ambulance to the emergency room, she’d prayed a litany of Hail Marys. It was what her mother had taught her to do as a child when something horrible had happened.
She was eight when her nonna had a heart attack. They’d visited her, sat by her bedside, and prayed. Nonna was back in the kitchen making gnocchi less than a month later, so Vanessa figured the praying had worked.
While she waited for Jordan to get out of surgery, she’d clasped her hands over her blood-soaked dress and prayedher heart out. He’d made it through surgery, stable but fragile.
Now she was sitting beside his bed in a cold, sterile hospital room, begging for the words she’d uttered on repeat since she’d arrived not to be true.
Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.
“Please don’t let this be the hour of his death,” she pleaded as she stroked her palm along his pale cheek.
The steady beeping of Jordan’s heart monitor was her only reply.
The door cracked open, and from the corner of her eye, she saw her sister slide through. She’d hopped on the plane the moment she’d heard what had happened.
Her mom had arrived a couple of hours later.
They were the only reason that Vanessa had eaten or changed in the last two days. But not even her sister could force her to leave Jordan’s side.
“I brought you some tea,” Lucy whispered, and Vanessa took the to-go cup from her hands.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, Lucy rubbing her swollen belly, and Vanessa stroking Jordan’s hand.
“Do you think he can hear us?” Tears, her constant companions these days, flooded in and clogged her throat.
Lucy allowed for a long, thoughtful pause, something Vanessa appreciated. It meant her sister was thinking her answer through, and not simply telling Vanessa what she wanted to hear.
Finally, she said, “The doctor said he can.” She nudged Vanessa with her shoulder. “Mom says he can, and you know she’s got more cred than the doctors any day.”
Vanessa would’ve laughed if she’d had a single ounce of energy left. “I’m surprised she didn’t come with you today.”
When Vanessa first saw her mom bustle into Jordan’shospital room carrying a Ziploc bag of sandwiches, she’d burst out crying and sobbed against Maria’s shoulder for twenty minutes straight. She’d never needed her more.
“She’s at the rental making chicken soup.” Another stretch of silence. “She sent me to convince you to come back to shower, eat, and sleep.”
“I—”
“Can’t,” Lucy finished for her, then rubbed Vanessa’s shoulder gently. “I know. I don’t think I could either.”
“I want to be here when he wakes up.” She turned his limp hand in hers. “I’ve been talking to him, but he’s so silent. So still. I keep hoping he’ll squeeze my hand or something.”
“He’s still pretty drugged up. The doctors said it could take a couple of days. They’ll reduce the dosage when they think he’s ready.”
Tears came like the regular visitors they were these days. She couldn’t stop them, and she was too exhausted to bother trying. “I know he’s not dying. They said he’d pull through, but he’s still so weak. What if?—?”
“You can’t think like that. He’s strong, Vanessa. He was shot, and he still took Landon out. He didn’t stop until he knew you were safe.” Lucy squeezed her shoulder. “Plus, he knows you’d be pissed if he died on you like this.”
The noise she made was half sob, half laugh. “It’s true.” Then a full sob as she said out loud what she’d been thinking the moment Jordan was hit. “It’s my fault.”
“What? Vanessa, no?—”
