Sage purses her lips. “Shame, if I’d have to guess. Maybe he didn’t want you to think you weren’t enough for him. Sometimes… Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger about grief than a loved one.”
“And he talked to you?” Quin asks, gesturing for Sage to take a seat in the armchair beside my bed.
She gives him a grateful smile as she plops down, her dog lying at her feet. “He didn’t tell me everything. I know there’s a bunch that he left out, and that’s fine. I respect his privacy.” She swallows, her gaze drifting between Quin and me. “And your privacy as well. He made me sign an NDA, so you don’t need to worry about?—”
“You blabbing to the press about the nature of our relationship is the least of my concerns right now,” I say, fingers curling around the base of the mattress. I need to breathe. Quin is right. My life, my baby’s life, depends on my ability to manage stress. Focus. I need to focus on what I can control. My emotions. “You said there was a car accident?”
“Yeah. It all happened so fast. One second we’re sitting in traffic, the next this minivan flips over and Damon gets out of the car and runs toward the wreck.” She sniffles. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve tried harder tokeep him in the car. I…” She closes her eyes, cheeks damp. “He saved three little boys and their parents. But the car was on fire and he?—”
“Stop,” I say, chest hurting. “I don’t need to hear it. I know what happened after that.”
“I’m sorry,” Sage whispers. “I’m?—”
“He’ll be okay,” Quin says, sidling up beside me as he drapes an arm over my shoulder. “Damon will be okay, darling. This is a great hospital. They’ll do everything they can to save him. I know they will.”
In moments of high-risk situations, in emergencies, Quinton comes off as disinterested and unattached. A part of me fumes at his nonchalance. Damon is burnt and hurting, and possibly dying, and he shows nothing. But another part of me, the part that’s grateful for rational minds and sober actions, appreciates his steady, grounded confidence. One of us needs to be a rock, and it’s not me. When it comes to my men, it’ll never be me.
A charged beat passes before Sage whispers, “He loves you.” I snap my gaze at her, eyes red and swollen. “No matter what he says or does, he loves you.” She looks at Quin. “Both of you. He’s just…” she trails off, sighing.
She doesn’t finish her sentence. Because there’s nothing left to say.
Hours crawl by, slow and torturous. All we can do is wait. There isliterallynothing else we can do. I try not to cry. I try not to put more stress on my body, on my mind. I try so damn hard.
As we sit in the waiting room, none of us dare tospeak, too afraid to utter a word of hope. Or a word of despair.
Finally, a doctor emerges from the double doors. "For Mr. Cavanaugh?" he calls out.
Quin, Sage, and I leap to our feet, rushing toward the man who holds our future in his hands.
“Is he okay?” I ask. “Is he alive?”
The doctor’s expression is unreadable. "Mr. Cavanaugh’s blood pressure dropped significantly during surgery but thankfully stabilized on its own. He’s unconscious and in critical condition. We’ll be moving him into the ICU shortly. We’ll do everything in our power to make him comfortable, but given the DNR on file, if he falls into cardiac arrest, we won’t be able to revive him."
My knees buckle, and both Quin and Sage lurch to grab me before I hit the floor.
"DNR?" I mutter, dread setting in. "What do you mean, a DNR?"
"There must be some sort of mistake," Quin adds, his voice panicked for the first time.
No…
The doctor shakes his head. "According to Mr. Cavanaugh's medical records at this hospital, there is a Do Not Resuscitate on file."
Quin’s shoulders tense, his jaw clenched. "When was that request filed?"
The doctor checks the clipboard, then mutters out the date.
"He wasn’t in his right mind that day. That request needs to be voided," Quin growls. “I swear, if you donothing when that man is dying, I will sue this hospital for everything it’s worth.”
“Dr. Marquis, please…”
I frown, trying to piece together the significance of that date. "What happened that day?"
Quin looks down at me, his lip twitching. "It’s the day the helicopter crashed and his family died. The day he almost drowned." He glares at the doctor. “Like I said, not in his right mind.”
The doctor swallows. “Unfortunately, we cannot overturn a DNR. Only Mr. Cavanaugh’s power of attorney has that privilege.”
“Who…” my breath catches in my throat, “Who is Damon’s power of attorney?”
