He was lucky,if you can call it that, to have been here when it happened, surrounded by professionals who reacted in aninstant to his stroke. Although it was severe, and he’ll likely face lasting paralysis in his left arm, his speech remains unaffected.
He’ll be here for a few more days while they run tests, adjust his medication, and start rehabilitation for his arm. Despite everything, he seems to be in good spirits. Morgan even mentioned earlier, that she’s taking this opportunity to learn everything she can from the professionals so she can oversee his recovery at home and keep up the rehabilitation exercises.
She’s determined to ensure Mr. Donovan makes a full recovery. He’ll rely on her now more than ever, and there’s a collective relief among us from knowing she’s here, ready to take charge and guide us through this.
“Make sure you’re taking Peanut out at least once a day, Grey. I don’t want all the responsibility falling on Morgan,” Mr. Donovan says a bit weaker than usual but still carrying that gentle authority.
Grey nods, his expression serious. “I already talked to her about it, and we’ll split it evenly.”
Mr. Donovan’s tired eyes crinkle in a small smile. “Good, good. Thank you.”
We all see the exhaustion creeping into his features. The conversation, brief as it’s been, has already drained him.
Oliver steps forward. “We’re going to let you rest now, but we’re just a phone call away if you need anything.”
“Day or night, don’t hesitate,” Misha adds with a smile.
“There are visiting hours,” Mr. Donovan protests weakly, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“Which doesn’t mean shit if you can give the security system a blackout,” Grey mutters under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from Misha and me.
“Boy,” Mr. Donovan chastises gently, though there’s a twinkle in his eye.
“Fine,” Grey grumbles, but a smile breaks through his feigned annoyance. “We’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll bring you some headphones and audiobooks.”
“And cake,” I chime in, earning a genuine smile from him.
As we start to gather our things, Mr. Donovan stops me. “Amelia?”
“Yes?” I turn back, noticing the unusual seriousness in his gaze.
Oh.
“Can I speak to you for a second?”
I nod when Grey comes to stand beside me, clearly reluctant to leave. Oliver and Misha exchange glances before quietly slipping out of the room.
“Alone,” Mr. Donovan says softly, giving Grey a pointed look. With a sigh, Grey finally relents and kisses my temple before he heads toward the door. Casting one last worried glance over his shoulder, he closes it behind him. When he’s gone, Mr. Donovan gives me a smile. “Come here, dear.”
I come to stand beside the bed, and he reaches out with his right hand to take mine, squeezing it. His skin is cool to the touch, and the small tremor of his fingers reminds me just how much he’s been through.
“How is Grey?” he asks, his underlying concern clear.
I consider sugarcoating my response but decide against it. Mr. Donovan doesn’t need comforting lies.
He wants the truth.
“He was pretty devastated yesterday,” I admit, feeling the weight of those words settle between us. “But I think we all feel a lot better now that you’re awake.” I squeeze his hand in return, offering what comfort I can.
Mr. Donovan’s eyes soften as he looks at me, searching my face. “Amelia…” he begins but pauses, gathering his thoughts. “I need you to look after Grey.” I open my mouth to protest, to tellhim that Grey doesn’t need looking after, but he raises his hand, silencing me with the gesture. “He needs you more than he’ll ever admit.”
“He has you,” I argue softly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Mr. Donovan’s expression grows solemn, the kind of seriousness that sends a chill down my spine. “I felt how fragile life is when it can end in mere seconds,” he shares quietly. “The only thing I could think about while the doctors were bustling around me and I couldn’t move was how Grey would cope without me.”
My heart clenches at the thought, his words hitting me hard.
It’s not just Grey who would struggle to cope.
