Strong hands caught me before I fell.
“Call 9-1-1,” I whispered. “Dr. Sloan.”
Then the world went dark, with Caleb’s face being the last thing I saw.
32
CALEB
Ipaced the waiting room outside the surgery, my footsteps wearing a path into the floor. Donna was crying. Elle had her arms around her, murmuring comforts I couldn’t hear. I couldn’t stand the sound of Donna’s sobs—it felt like something was tearing open inside my chest.
What was going on with Nyah’s health? Why had there been so much medication in her bathroom cabinet? Who was Dr. Sloan? The questions spiralled until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began.
I thought about our fight.Did the fight cause her stress? Did it cause this reaction?This is exactly why I was so angry, I thought bitterly. She never shared anything. Never let anyone in.
And Lucas—God. What was I supposed to tell him?
I sank into a chair, suddenly exhausted, my hands trembling. For the first time in years, I pressed my palms together and bowed my head.Please. Please, God. Let her be fine.
Two hours passed.
My brother and sisters stayed with me, along with Donna and Elle. The rest of the family went home, unable to bear the waiting.
When a man in surgical scrubs walked toward us, every muscle in my body went rigid.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Dr. Sloan. Who’s Elle Fernandez?”
Elle raised her hand.
I surged forward without thinking, rubbing the back of my neck. “How is she?” I asked. “Is Nyah going to be all right?”
He removed his mask, his face drawn. “I can only speak to Elle,” he said carefully. “Nyah listed her as her emergency contact.”
“You can tell them,” Elle said quickly. “I give permission.”
“Well,” he began, “the good news is that she’s stable, and the surgery went well.”
I barely registered the relief before the next wave of fear hit. “What’s wrong with her?” I asked.
Dr. Sloan scratched his cheek and looked at us. “Hasn’t she told any of you about her condition?”
I looked around.
Donna and Elle’s faces mirrored my own confusion.
He sighed. “Of course she didn’t.” He shook his head. “Nyah has what we call an anomalous coronary artery.”
I heard gasps, but they felt distant.How could she not tell anyone?Not even me?
“Because she waited so long to have the surgery,” the doctor continued, “we need to monitor her in the ICU for the next forty-eight hours. They’re critical.”
My mouth went dry. My own heart felt like it was folding in on itself, a numb ache spreading through my chest.
“What do you mean she waited so long?” Sophia asked.
“She’s had this condition for many years,” Dr. Sloan said, consulting his clipboard. “Her symptoms worsened last year. We scheduled surgery for August. Insurance didn’t cover it fully, but she had the funds. Then she called to postpone, saying something had come up. I advised against delaying it.”
Donna screamed. “This is my fault,” she sobbed. “It’s my fault. She gave me the money.” Elle pulled her into her arms as Donna broke down completely.
