I stagger toward her, but strong arms come around me, holding me in place as medical personnel surround her bed.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Hunter says, quiet but insistent. “We need to stay out of their way.”
I buck against him, desperate to get to my grandma. But he doesn’t let go.
“Farmor!”
The doctor shouts to everyone, “Clear!” and all the medical personnel remove their hands from Farmor. I barely hear the beep of the defibrillator before her body jerks from the discharge of such a high voltage into her chest. I jolt in Hunter’s arms as if they somehow hit me with the paddles too.
“She’s going to be okay,” Hunter starts repeating over and over, his voice soft in my ear, but his arms are clamped around me—unyielding, immovable.
There’s a prolonged pause when I thinkmyheart might stop and then, “Sinus rhythm,” someone announces, andmy eyes fly to her monitor—where she indeed has a steady heartbeat again.
I sag, the fight going out of me as all the adrenaline drains from my limbs, leaving me weak. Hunter holds me up, his strong body pressed against my back, keeping me from collapsing to the ground.
Mom finally spots us and shoves past the doctors and nurses until she makes it to the hallway, then breaks into a run. The moment before she reaches us, Hunter releases me, stepping back right as her arms close around me instead.
We’re both sobbing and shaking as we curl into each other.
“What happened?” I ask.
“They don’t know yet. It was so much like ... likethatday ...” My mom breaks off with a gasped sob.
The day my dad collapsed at the beach while we were celebrating his birthday. The day we found out he had an inoperable brain tumor.
I can’t bear the thought of losing Farmor too. Not like this. Not without warning or a chance to say goodbye.I’mthe one who is supposed to have the unpredictable life expectancy. Why does everyone else I love keep collapsing and leaving me without warning?
“Thank you for bringing Liv here.” My mom glances past me to where Hunter stands, still hovering nearby, hands in his pockets.
He nods in acknowledgment.
A sharp ache tangles with uncertainty when I think about the way he insisted on helping me. It shouldn’t mean anything—but it does. I thought I had him pegged. He’s been nothing but varying degrees of rude since we met. But now... now there’s a fissure in my armor against him, and I don’t like it.
“Mrs. Karlsson,” someone calls out.
My mom immediately releases me and spins to face the doctor striding toward us, his expression grim. “We’re going to do some tests to confirm, but my initial guess is that your mother has suffered a stroke. We’ll know more in the next hour or two. Our goal right now is to stabilize her and then, if my hunch proves correct, we’ll have to start trying to ascertain the severity of the stroke. We’ll need you and your kids to go to the waiting room for now, and as soon as we get her in a room, we’ll send someone for you.”
His words are a steady flow, too fast to allow us to correct any of his wrong assumptions. But it doesn’t matter. The only part of what he said that means anything is the part where he thinks Farmor had a stroke.
A stroke.
I don’t know as much about strokes as I do hearts, but I know enough. I know it doesn’thaveto be a fatal diagnosis.
But it could be.
“Do you know how to find the waiting room?” the doctor continues when none of us respond.
“Yes, thank you, we’ll find it,” Hunter finally speaks up.
The doctor nods and turns on his heel. Before I even realize I’m doing it, I’ve lurched forward and grabbed the doctor’s arm. “Can I see her—just for a second ... in case ...”
He must hear the terror in my voice, or he knows the direness of the situation is worse than he’s letting on. He nods once.
I rush to Farmor’s side, shoving my way through the people prepping to transfer her to CT.
Seeing her lying on the gurney, so still, so white, once again brings a rush of the worst memories of my life flooding to the surface. The careful dam I’ve constructed around that horrific year falters for the second time today.
I know every minute counts, so I can’t let myself get swept away by the torrent. I force myself to stay here, now, and grab her hand in mine, leaning over to press a kiss to her soft skin. “Don’t you dare leave me too,” I whisper fiercely, my cheek against hers. “I still need you.”
