Mom squeezed my shoulder. “Take a break. Your father and I will sit with her.”
“I’m fine.”
“You need some fresh air.”
I shook my head, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
If Ginny can’t get fresh air, I don’t deserve it.
“Son, look at me.” Dad stepped into my line of sight, covering my hand where I held Ginny’s. “It’s okay. She’s okay.”
My eyes watered, and I sniffed, looking up at the ceiling and willing the tears not to fall. I needed to be strong for them, for her. But I was breaking.
“Besides, you have a visitor.”
This from my mother, whom I assessed with a questioning brow. She only smiled, her expression so warm despite the circumstances.
“Emily is here.”
I blinked, unbelieving, before fishing my phone from my jacket pocket. I hadn’t checked it since I told Coach what was going on. I skipped past the myriad of texts, including a dozen in the group chat with my college friends, and right to the texts I’d missed from Emily.
Trouble:Where did you go? Are you flying to Baltimore?
Trouble:I’m coming.
Trouble:Hey, just landed. No rush in responding. I just want you to know I’m here.
Trouble:Checked in with the ICU desk. I’m in the waiting area. I’ll wait as long as I need to, just know you’re not alone.
Every text made my chest tighten more, and the tears I’d been holding back spilled in a quick sweep down my cheeks to the floor. I wiped away the wetness, sniffing as I tucked my phone away again.
She’s here.
After everything, she’s here.
My immediate response was relief. I wanted her here. I wanted to see her so badly, I was sick with the need.
But on the heels of that instinct was the cold, harsh reminder of what had happened before I left Seattle.
She shouldn’t be here.
“Go,” my dad said, and he didn’t let me protest before he was pulling me up from the chair. “Get some coffee. Talk to Emily. We’ll be here when you get back.”
“And don’t rush,” Mom added. “Ginny is okay.”
I nodded, but one look at Ginny told me that was just part of the story.
She was okayfor now.
My chest was on fire as I slipped out of Ginny’s room and into the bustling common area of the ICU. The lights were bright, and I squinted against them as my hands dove into my pockets. I walked slowly toward the family waiting area, torn between wanting to sweep Emily into my arms and bury my face in her neck, to hold onto her like the lifeline she was…
And to do the right thing, the hard thing, the thing we both knew was best.
Let her go.
My stomach cramped at the thought, and I chewed my lip to keep from crying again. I was so wrecked emotionally, so fucking raw I felt like an exposed nerve in a flesh wound.
And it didn’t matter how slowly I walked or how long I hung my head before lifting it to find her in that waiting area, nothing could prepare me for what it would feel like to see her.
