“What did she say?”
“He collapsed. She just said you needed to come quickly.”
“I can’t just leave. I have a patient.”
“I can explain and offer him a free cancellation in the future?”
“If it were anyone else, but I’ve already had to leave him in the lurch once this week.”
“He’ll understand. It’s your dad, Maya.”
“I know,” Maya sighs, and my heart aches for her. “You’re right. I can’t be a therapist right now. Thanks, Charlotte. Sometimes I need the reminder that I’m human first.”
Maya fumbles at the doorknob before returning inside. Her hands shake, and there’s a glassy sheen covering her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. I’ve had a family emergency. I need to go to the hospital. Charlotte can rebook you, and of course there’s no char—”
“Maya,” I cut in. “You’re rambling. Don’t worry about today. No apologies needed. Family comes first.”
She lets out a breath of relief that I’m accepting of her life outside of her job without being a dick about it. “Thank you for your understanding,” she says as she heads to her desk and grabs her bag and keys. She’s so on edge, and all I want to do is make it better for her. I wish I could hold her. I wish I could look after her. But I can’t. Not as me. Not when I still don’t know for sure if she knows the truth. And it’s not like I can stroll into the hospital wearing a mask.
Maya walks toward the door in a daze, bumping into her chair on the way. I reach out and grab her elbow to steady her. Her eyesdart to where my hand touches her and then up to my eyes. I let her go, much as it pains me.
“Sorry, you seemed unsteady there.”
“It’s… I’m fine,” she says. “I need to go. Traffic will be crazy at this time of day.”
“You can’t drive yourself.”
“What?” She blinks up at me for a second. “Of course, I can. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Your hands are shaking, Maya. You can’t drive yourself,” I say, my voice stern and leaving no room for arguments.
Her eyes tear up again, and the salty scent of them has my wolf ready to go to war. She needs me. Even if she doesn’t see it. Even if she doesn’t feel the bond like I do. She needs her mate to take care of her right now. Maya looks after everyone else. Her family, her patients. I want to be the one to look after her.
“I’ll drive,” I say, taking the key from her hand and walking toward the parking lot. Maya’s high-heeled shoes clip on the timber floor of the reception area as she races after my longer strides.
“Ryan, this is inappropriate and completely unnecessary. I can drive myself,” she protests as I use the key to find her car. I open the passenger door for her, and she must really be in a daze because she gets in when I tell her to. Or maybe that’s just her responding to me using the same tone I do when I command her body and bring her pleasure. I lean in and engage her seatbelt before circling the car and climbing in.
“I know you can do it,” I say, realizing this is something we share—a need to look after everyone else and not let anyone see that we’re struggling. “But you don’t have to. Now, where to?”
Maya stares at me for a moment, blinking as she tries to process what’s happening. And then I send a silent prayer of thanks to the Moon Goddess when she directs me to the hospital.
We arrive twenty minutes later, and I drop Maya at the entrance door. She practically flees the car, running inside while I find somewhere to park.
Goddess, I hate hospitals. The cloying scent of antiseptics, the fluorescent lighting that burns my vision. And the memories. Those hurt the most. They bombard me with images, and the feelings aren’t far behind. How helpless I felt waiting for Dad to wake up after Mom rejected him and left him half dead. The fear of losing him and taking on the role of alpha before I was ready hits me as if it were happening right now, not six years ago.
I push the reminders down and head toward the ICU, where the receptionist directed me as a ‘family friend.’ Maya sits huddled together with two women and the little girl I know to be her niece. Sobs rack the older woman, but Maya just gazes forward. Her eyes are unseeing as she stares into space while still offering reassurance.
“He’ll be okay, Mom. I know it’s serious, but he’ll be okay,” she soothes. Her mother cries harder and collapses against Maya. My wolf puffs out his chest with pride at seeing my mate and her strength. So capable of putting the needs of others before herself. She was born to be my luna.
We were made for each other. Made to be able to hold each other up so that we both have someone we can rely on when it gets tough.
I stand off to the side and watch them, not wanting to intrude on a private family moment. After another thirty minutes or so, a doctor finally comes out to give them an update. Maya’s dad went into a diabetic coma, something called DKA which the women seem to understand. He should be okay but will need to stay for the next few days while they treat and monitor him.
“Can we see him?” Maya’s mother asks the doctor.
“I can let you in for ten minutes, but then you’ll need to wait until he’s stepped down from the ICU,” the doctor says, placing an arm softly on Maya’s mother’s arm. “But no children, unfortunately. And you will all need to gown up and wear masks.”
“That’s okay, you both go in,” Maya volunteers instantly, ever the selfless one. Ever the one putting herself last. “I’ll wait with Maddie and see him when he’s out of ICU.”
