Just Three Words (Soho Loft Romances) (35 page)

Claire shook her head. “Her heart’s not working on its own. There was apparently a lot of damage to it from the heart attack. Her blood isn’t oxygenating properly. They have her on a ventilator and some other device. The doctor said a bunch of stuff I don’t remember.” She held her palm up helplessly to Chip for assistance. He jumped in.

“Dr. Bayliss, the cardiologist, feels there’s real cause for concern, Hunter. She told us to gather family. So I think you should prepare yourself.”

She closed her eyes. It wasn’t what Hunter had been hoping for, and honestly it didn’t feel real. Somehow she had to figure out a way to undo all of this. Her mom was the warmest, most caring individual in the entire world. Her biggest cheerleader, her safe place to fall. Always. She couldn’t imagine a world without her, and it wasn’t fair that any of them should have to. Everything felt upside down, like a garish carnival ride on repeat. Mentally shaking herself, she found her focus again. “Can I see her?”

Claire took her hand and led to the double swinging doors. “We’re only allowed visitation for a few minutes each hour. I’ll take you.”

She paused, wiping the moisture from her face. Her throat burned. “Do you mind if I go by myself first?”

Her sister nodded, seeming to understand the need for privacy. “Yeah, of course. I’ll wait here. Second room on the right.”

As she made her way into the unit, she was surprised by how dim it was inside, how quiet. Nighttime was in full effect as nurses moved quietly about. She paused in the doorway to the room with her mother’s name on the chart, terrified to go in. In the corner stood machines, beeping and whooshing in a symphony Hunter found foreign and horrific. But in the midst of it all lay this tiny little form, so helpless and still. And that was all that it took. She moved to her mom, her lifelong protector, as if attached to a magnet. A sob tore from her throat and she covered her mouth to muffle the sound. She took in her mother’s battered body, covered by a brown blanket. So unlike herself. So still. Finally, catching her breath, she took her mother’s hand, which seemed swollen and lifeless, into her own.

“Hi, Mama.” She swallowed, tasting tears and not sure what else to say. “I see you went to a lot of trouble to get me here this time.” The machine whooshed as Hunter gathered her thoughts, fighting the damn lump in her throat. “We need you to be strong for us, okay? Because we need you here, and that means that heart of yours has to start working on its own. Maybe you can give it a talking-to. Claire needs her shopping buddy, you hear me? And Kevin, he needs you more than ever, Mama. He’s just a kid.” Her voice broke with emotion. “And don’t forget about me, okay? Who’s gonna check up on me and make sure that I’m eating and not posting stupid photos to Facebook? That’s your job and—” Hunter tried to form the words, but her voice gave out. The tears blinded her and she submitted to them, bowing her head, her resolve too weak to continue. Absently, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and the strength from that touch moved through her like a drug. She turned and met the eyes of her father. Hunter didn’t question the impulse, but instead fell into his arms, where he held her tightly as she cried. The differences between them didn’t matter in that moment. They were family and they both loved her mother. His arms felt solid and warm, and for a fleeting moment she remembered what it was like to have a dad.

“It’s okay to be sad,” he said finally. “She would say so.”

She nodded into his chest. “She has to be okay.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything. Perhaps the sadness had gotten ahold of him, too. They stayed like that, with his arms around her, standing over her mother’s bed for several long moments. He released her finally and ran a hand across the back of her hair. She saw the tears on his cheeks now.

“You look so much like her, you know. Everyone always says so.”

It was the highest form of compliment. She nodded, suddenly self-aware again and a little uncomfortable. She placed a kiss on her mother’s cheek, dodging the breathing tube that kept her alive. “Get some good rest, Mama. We’re all here. I love you.” She lingered a moment, memorizing the image. Just in case.

Her father walked her back out to the waiting room with a hand on her back. He didn’t say anything, but his quiet strength emanated, making all the difference. A parent was here. Not the one she was used to, not the one she wanted, but a parent all the same. And there was comfort in that. Once Hunter was returned to her sister, her father headed out again, back to wherever he’d been.

Claire shrugged and watched his departing form. “He’s just been walking laps around the hospital all night. It’s how he’s coping.”

Hunter nodded. “He likes to control things, and he can’t do that with this. He’s scared.”

They settled in for what would prove to be a very long night. Chip was good about playing caretaker. He refilled their coffee cups and made sure they were comfortable. As much as she’d rolled her eyes at him in the past, he really was a good guy. Hunter spent the time staring at the wall, the clock, the torn-up magazines on the coffee table, and the forlorn faces of those around them, waiting for news of their own loved ones. It was a depressing place. She fired off a text message to her friends back in New York, updating them on what she’d learned. She didn’t know how long she’d be in Ohio, but an encouraging text from Mallory put her concerns to rest. They’d take care of Savvy while she focused on her family. She’d yet to see Kevin, and as time went on, she started to wonder about his whereabouts. He shouldn’t be alone.

She stood and ran a hand through her hair. God, her neck muscles pulled. “I’m gonna find Kev.”

Claire adjusted her position in the uncomfortable plastic chairs. “He’s outside. Chip checked on him not too long ago. Won’t come in. They’re so alike,” she said, referencing Kevin and their father. “So stubborn.”

Hunter nodded and headed for the door. “Thanks. I just want to make sure he’s okay.” Because for her, Kevin was still that smiley little kid who’d do anything for anyone, who was thrilled each time a new person walked in the door. And he probably needed someone about now, whether he’d admit to it or not. She found him not far from the ambulance bay of the emergency room, hunched over on a bench, slouch hat in place and ear buds implanted. His new lanky form was something she was still getting used to.

Hunter sat next to him on the bench, prompting him to turn. He pulled one of the ear buds out and stared at her. The eyeliner was gone and left staring back at her were the big brown eyes of her little brother. As much as she wanted to, she didn’t hug him. She didn’t think he’d want that.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi.” They sat there together for a bit. Neither one, apparently, felt the need to say anything, and that was fine with her. Hunter needed Kevin to get that she was here. That was all. God, the kid must be petrified. She didn’t know how he could be so calm, so still. Cars raced past on the distant freeway. An EMT smoked a cigarette. After about ten minutes or so, he turned to her.

“Is she going to die?” And just like that he was eight years old again, looking to his big sister for guidance. His face held such innocence, such fear. It tore at her.

“It looks like she might,” Hunter said, feeling the need to be honest with him.

He nodded and faced the street. Work traffic seemed to be making an appearance as the purple light of dawn faded in gradually. “I’m sorry I’ve been an asshole,” he said finally, taking off his hat and squeezing it. “I’ve been sitting here for hours thinking about how I could have made things easier on her, but I didn’t. So stupid and wrapped up in my lame life, and now—”

“Hey,” she said slinging an arm around him. “First of all, Mom doesn’t think you’re an asshole. She’d be pissed we were even using the word. So don’t be an asshole and tell her.”

The tiniest of smiles hit his face. Well, look at that, he did still have teeth. “Cool. I won’t.”

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen, kid, but we gotta stick together through this thing. And it sucks that you’re sixteen and you hate the world, but can you push pause on that for now? Maybe put it on the to-do list for later?”

He nodded, leaning into her arm a tad. “I just need that not to be the way she saw me last, you know? Acting like that.” There had been a lot of tears shed over the past twenty-four hours, but the ones that brimmed in her brother’s eyes now stabbed her square in the chest.

“She knows who you are, Kevin. And so do I. Come inside and wait with us, okay? No more sitting out here beating yourself up.”

He nodded and followed her back inside to join the rest of the family.

Waiting. Hoping. Making crazy deals with the universe.

And attempting to stay strong.

*

It’d been a week since Hunter had left for Ohio. Sam hadn’t experienced a single good night of sleep since. She went to work but spent most of the time wildly distracted and probably ineffective. She was worried about Hunter’s mom, Hunter’s family, and most importantly, Hunter herself.

Sam hadn’t received much direct communication since Hunter had left so unexpectedly for Ohio, just a few texts here or there, checking in on Elvis and offering gratitude for Samantha looking after him. The interactions were polite and surface level, which left her feeling very much on the periphery, a difficult place to be. Most of the medical updates came through Mallory, which she had to admit stung a bit. Mrs. Blair had shown signs of improvement, but was still dependent upon the ventilator, something they were hoping to wean her off slowly over the next few days. Time would tell whether she would recover fully, but it was certainly better news than last week.

“You done for the day?” Brooklyn asked, wheeling up to Sam’s desk in her desk chair and stopping abruptly. It was her thing lately, wheeling places. She always did have a fascination with things that moved fast.

Samantha glanced at the clock. It was after six and she wasn’t accomplishing anything anymore. Honestly, her heart wasn’t in it. She looked up at Brooklyn regretfully. “Put a fork in me.”

Brooklyn tilted her head to the side. “Seems cruel. Wanna have dinner at our place instead? Ashton is coming over. Then she and Jessica will inevitably play some sort of shoot-’em-up video game, and we can sneak off to the balcony and stare at things and talk.”

It sounded nice actually. She and Brooklyn probably needed to check in with each other. The bickering that had been abruptly interrupted when Hunter received the phone call about her mother had naturally fallen by the wayside as the friends pulled together in light of the tragedy. But it hadn’t ever really been addressed, and it probably needed to be.

“I’d love that. What can I bring?”

“You have any of those truffles left?”

“Mmm-hmm. A new tin just arrived today. And Mal called the bakeshop that makes them to see about maybe representing them. Putting that place on the map. We could sell the hell outta those things, Brooks.”

“Yeah, we could.” Brooklyn stared off at the wall in response to the news, which meant she was already in creative mode.

“Slow down, sparky.” Samantha laughed, grasping her forearm. “We haven’t signed them yet. Save the juice until the ink is dry.”

Brooklyn pointed at her head. “Just doing some preliminary truffle warm-ups, you know how it is. Truffle wind sprints, if you will. Seven thirty tonight?”

“Perfect.”

Brooklyn wheeled herself over to Mallory, who was still going strong at her own desk, firing off emails and doing all the Mallory things that Sam couldn’t even begin to understand. “Dinner tonight, Mal?” Brooklyn asked.

“Can’t. I need to pull a late night. Get my notes going for a presentation tomorrow with those brake fluid guys. I know very little about brake fluid, but that will not be the case by morning.”

“Roger that, boss. Hey, anything from Hunter this afternoon?”

Sam’s fingers froze on the keyboard and her heart sped up as she peeked around her computer monitor, awaiting Mallory’s answer.

“She’s a little stressed,” Mallory began. “Between her father and her brother, the house is pretty much trashed, and they’re surviving on fast food, which they pick up on trips back and forth to the hospital. She’s not willing to leave her mom for very long, and her sister has her hands full with the twins, so there’s not a lot of time to attend to, well…life.”

Brooklyn blew out a breath. “She’s gotta be going out of her mind. How’s her mom?”

“It looks like there are some encouraging signs. The concern over brain damage has passed, as she’s semiconscious and will squeeze the doctor’s hand on command. But they’re keeping her somewhat sedated so her body can heal.”

Samantha closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to the universe. And then she couldn’t hold back any longer. “How did she sound when you talked to her?”

Mallory turned to her, soft smile on her face. “Like Hunter. Ever the trouper. You know how she is.”

She nodded, attempting a smile of her own before staring at her keyboard as the well of feelings struck again. The sadness over what Hunter was going through, the guilt surrounding how they’d left things between them, and the sharp need to be there for Hunter through this rough time in her life. She’d pretty much been stonewalled on that front. She’d called several times, left messages, but Hunter had yet to call her back.

“Give her time, Sam,” Mallory said.

“Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” She blinked back the embarrassing tears and pretended to focus on packing up. No big deal at all.

Two and half hours later, she sat on Brooklyn’s balcony staring out at the vast Hudson River. It was peaceful and calming out there. She got why Brooklyn relished it so much.

They spent the better part of an hour sitting together as Samantha recounted the details of how things between her and Hunter had first started all the way through how they’d ended.

“I don’t know how I missed it,” Brooklyn said, looking mystified. “I’m usually more perceptive than that.”

“You’re very perceptive, but it’s not like you would ever imagine something like this.”

Brooklyn held up a finger. “That’s not exactly true.”