Cam nods, his throat continuing to work through the emotions lodged there. “I was scared. That’s why I acted like I did.”
“I know.”
“I just…” He trails off, exhaling sharply. “I just want her to have more time.”
I clench my jaw, looking back at Emma. “Me too.”
The door creaks open and Dr. Rivera walks in holding some sort of paperwork as he gives a small, forced smile.
“She’s stable,” he says, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “But we need to find a match soon. We’re doing everything we can, but time is critical.”
I nod, gripping her hand tighter. “What am I supposed to do?” I plead for answers, for advice, something of substance. I can't just sit here and watch her float away. “How do I help her?”
Dr. Rivera’s smile turns despairing. “Stay with her. Talk to her. Love her. Patients in comas hear more than you think. They know when they’re not alone.”
I only nod in response, not trusting myself to speak again. The doctor gives me a reassuring look before stepping out, leaving me and Cam alone with her again.
For a long time, neither of us says anything. We just watch her breathe and listen to the steady rhythm of the monitors.
“She’s gonna fight,” Cam finally says. “She always does.”
I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Yeah.” is all that comes out.
Cam claps a hand on my shoulder, squeezes once, and then steps out, leaving me alone with her. I lean in close, pressing my forehead to her temple. “You hear that, Princess?” I whisper. “You just have to fight. I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I close my eyes, breathing her in, and hope that wherever she is she hears me.
36
ALEX
I don’t know what time it is. Morning, night, it all blurs together. The chair beside her bed has become my home, the only place I belong. My fingers stay wrapped around hers, my head bent close, whispering to her, hoping she hears me in whatever place she is trapped in right now.
I squeeze her hand gently, rubbing my thumb over her skin like it might wake her up or she’ll eventually squeeze back.
She doesn’t.
I whisper to her between the silences. “I love you, Em.” I don’t know what else to say. It’s the only thing that will come out of my mouth, like I am making up for all the years that I should’ve said it to her, knowing that I might not get to tell her again.
The weight of it all is crushing, pressing into my chest like cinder blocks, suffocating me with every breath.
The door creaks open and I glance up as Frankie steps inside. He’s clutching a bouquet of red roses, her favorite. His expression is tight, like he’s trying to hold it together, but his eyes show the grief that’s clawing at him as fiercely as it’s tearing me apart.
“Hey. Brought these for her.” He sets down the vase on the side table.
I nod, swallowing hard. “She’ll love them.”
Frankie pulls a chair up on the other side of the bed and sits down. He exhales slowly, studying Emma. “This feels like deja vu,” he murmurs. “Feels like we were just here not that long ago, saying goodbye to Mom.”
I close my eyes for a second. The memory is still raw, years later.
“She should’ve had more time,” Frankie whispers. “My mom. And Emma should have more time, too. But our family never catches a damn break.”
I swallow hard. He’s right. Loss has followed them like a shadow their whole lives. Their father. Their mother. And now Emma’s hanging in the balance, and all we can do is sit here and watch.
Frankie clears his throat and squeezes Emma’s other hand. “I don’t want to say goodbye to you, Em. So you better fight, okay?”
He stays for a while, talking to her about random things: old memories, inside jokes, anything to fill the silence. I just sit back in the chair and let him have his time with her. I can’t get myself to leave the room, but it seems to be good enough for Frankie.
