His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me close. “No,” he says quietly. “But that also means nothing is getting worse. So I’ll take that.” His gaze flicks to my dad, his jaw tightening. “Lev is the toughest fighter I know. He’s still in there somewhere.”
I swallow hard and nod.
Leaning over, I place my hand over my father’s.
I squeeze gently, my voice cracking. “Hi, Dad,” I whisper. “I miss you.”
Drago presses a kiss to my neck, reminding me that he’s right here with me. That I’m never alone.
“I don’t know what to say to him, Drago,” I admit quietly. “What do you say to someone in a coma?”
“You don’t need to say anything,” he murmurs. “Just hold his hand. Let him know you’re here.” His thumb strokes my waist. “Give him something to fight for. To come back to.”
A spark goes off in my brain.
Something sudden. Something reckless and hopeful and terrifying.
“Drago…” I whisper.
He looks at me instantly. “Yes?”
“Can you wait outside?” I ask softly. “Just for a couple of minutes. I want to tell him something.”
He doesn’t question it. He never questions me. He knows exactly what I want to tell my father.
“Of course,” he says, voice gentle. “I’ll be by the door.”
And instead of it making me feel trapped, it makes me feel safe. Like nothing can ever hurt me again.
I slide off his lap, and he presses one last kiss to my cheek. Then he glances at Lev, his voice low and rough as he heads toward the door.
“See you tomorrow, old man.”
The door clicks shut behind him. And suddenly it’s just me. And my dad. And the quiet hum of the machines doing what his body can’t do on its own right now.
I lean in close, my mouth hovering near his ear like the words matter more if they’re whispered. “Dad,” I murmur, voice shaking. “I really need you to wake up.”
My throat tightens, and I blink hard, fighting tears. “Because I think I’m pregnant,” I whisper, the words landing like a prayer. “And my baby needs a grandfather. We all need you to come back.”
My chest aches so badly I can barely breathe.
“Okay?” I whisper. “Please.”
I squeeze his hand again, holding tight like he can feel it. Like he can hear it.
“This is your chance to do it right,” I whisper. “To be a constant.”
My voice breaks, but I keep going. “So you need to come back to us… because we really need you.”
I press a kiss to his cheek, lingering for a second too long, like I’m trying to pass life into him.
Then I stand.
And the reality waits for me inside a little box in my bag.
Hope or heartbreak.
I wipe my eyes quickly and force myself to breathe again.
