Chapter Thirty
You’ll get there in time.
I chanted that to myself the entire way in the car and in the air. Even though the compound wasn’t far away—just on the opposite side of Tennessee, in fact—I was still stiff with fear that I might, indeed, be too late. The chopper landed a little less than two hours after Tate’s call. Barely a tick of the clock, all things considered, but it still seemed like the seconds dragged by with pitiless disregard for my urgency.
A vampire waited for me on the roof, dark hair whipping around from the rotor blades. Not Bones, though I’d called him and he was on his way. It was my mother who wordlessly took my hand when I jumped out of the helicopter, keeping pace with me as I strode inside the building. My mental shields were up as high as I could crank them, because I didn’t think I could stand it if I overheard a stray thought telling me that Don was already gone. I couldn’t even bear to look at my mother as we went straight to the elevators, let alone ask the question that burned a hole in my throat. I was too afraid of what the answer might be.
“He’s still alive, Catherine,” she said quietly.
I choked back the sob of relief that threatened to claw its way out, managing to nod while tears blurred my gaze. The elevator doors opened and I went inside, part of me registering that the last time I’d been in an elevator was when I was ambushed by ghouls at the Ritz.
“Is it his cancer worsening, or did something else happen?”
Something else better have happened, I added silently. I’d called Don every few days to check in on him, plus got regular updates on his health from Tate. No one had even hinted to me that he was going downhill. If Don had been steadily growing worse over the past few weeks and everyone lied to me about it, I’d stop speaking to every last fucking one of them, my mother included.
“He had a heart attack a few hours ago.”
I closed my eyes, absorbing the swell of pain as it came. Heart attacks were lethal enough all on their own. Add one to Don’s already-ravaged health, and I knew what that meant.
Cool fingers squeezed around mine. “He’s still hanging in,” she said. “He knows you’re coming, too.”
“He’s awake?” I was surprised, but how else could he know I was on my way?
She glanced at the ground, shifting uncomfortably. “He was when I last saw him.”
Even amidst my fear, worry, and grief, I caught an edge in her voice that I well recognized. Defensiveness. The elevator doors opened on the second sub-level where Medical was, but I didn’t budge.
“What aren’t you telling me, Mom?”
She let go of my hand to gesture to the pet carrier. “It’s not sterile for an animal to be in the same room with Don. All that hair. I can take your cat to your old office while you—”
“What aren’t you telling me?” I repeated, slapping a hand on the elevator door when it started to close.
“Crawfield.”
Both our heads whipped up, but Tate’s indigo glare was only for my mother as he approached the elevator.
“Get off this floor, Crawfield. I told you not to come within a hundred yards of Don again. Cat.” Tate’s voice softened. “Come with me.”
“Not until someone tells me what’s going on, and as we all know, I’m in a hurry,” I growled. My mother was forbidden to come within a hundred yards of Don? What the hell had happened?
“She directly violated Don’s medical orders,” Tate said, his gaze now flashing emerald at her.
“And he’d be dead now if I hadn’t!” My mother stopped glaring at Tate to give me a pleading look. “That’s the only reason I gave him the blood—”
“Which you had no right to do. You knew he had a DNR,” Tate snapped.
Fresh tears filled my eyes as I put together what happened from the fragments of their argument. “Don had a ‘do not resuscitate’ on his medical orders, but you gave him some of your blood when he had the heart attack to bring him back?” I rasped, looking at my mother through a haze of pink.
She dropped her gaze. “I knew you’d want to see him one last time.”
I let go of the cat carrier to wrap her in a fierce embrace, hearing her surprised “oof” even as Tate let out a disgusted noise.
“You can hug her all you want, but she’s suspended indefinitely, so get off this floor, Crawfield, before I throw you off.”
I let her go to round on Tate. “You can’t even stop being a dick under these circumstances? What is wrong with you, Tate!”
My voice was loud. The medical staff paused in their activities to glance our way before quickly going back to what they’d been doing.
“I’ll take your cat to your office, like I said,” my mother muttered, stepping back into the elevator and hitting the close button.
Tate took my arm, leading me down the hall, and it was only because I didn’t know if Don was awake and could hear us that I didn’t send him flying along the polished sterile floors.
“Regardless of the circumstances, she defied orders,” Tate stated, keeping his voice low. “If she wants to be on the team, then she needs to learn to obey orders even if she disagrees with them.”
“Some things are more important than orders,” I hissed back, stopping before we got too close to my uncle’s room. “Don might be nothing more than a boss to you, but he means a little more than that to me. At least my mother recognized that, even if you refuse to!”
“Don’t you dare,” Tate breathed, coming closer until we were nose to nose. “Don’t you dare stand there and pretend you’re the only one losing a family member here. I grew up passed from foster home to foster home until I turned eighteen and joined the army. Spent the next five years trying to forget everything that happened before enlisting. Then Don took me under his wing when I was twenty-three. First fucking person to ever truly give a shit about me, to look up my birthday and send me a card. To remember that on the holidays, I’d be alone unless he stopped by pretending to talk about work. All this was before you ever met him.” Tate’s voice thickened with emotion. “I’d kill or die for that man, don’t you ever think I wouldn’t.”
“Then why are you letting him just die?” I demanded, the last word cracking with the grief frothing inside me.
“Oh, Cat.” Tate sighed, his entire body drooping as though something inside him had magically deflated. “Because it’s not my choice. It’s Don’s, and he made it. I don’t like it, I don’t agree with it, but I sure as hell have to respect it.”
And so do you hung heavy in the air, even if he didn’t say it. I glanced down the hall toward my uncle’s room, hearing the beeps from the EKG machine that weren’t the steady rhythm they should be.
“I’m going to ride your mother until she learns that she can’t ignore orders again, but, Cat . . .” Tate raised his hand as if he were going to touch me, then dropped it. “Despite the fact that she shouldn’t have done it, I’m glad you got here in time,” he finished, looking away with a shine in his own gaze.
My anger deflated with the same abruptness with which his posture had slumped. It would be easier to hold on to it, I knew. Easier to whip myself into a rage over this and every other thing Tate had ever done to piss me off, but that would only be trying to camouflage my grief over losing someone I loved. Tate loved Don, too, I knew that. Knew it even as I flung the “boss” comment at him before. Aside from me, Tate was probably hurting the most right now, but he was handling his pain the way he always had—by being a good soldier.
And I was handling my pain the way I always had—running from it with denial and anger. Of the two of us, I had the least amount of room to throw stones over coping mechanisms.
Slowly, I reached up, brushing my hand across Tate’s cheek and feeling the light stubble that said he hadn’t shaved today; very unlike his military regimented, impeccable grooming habits.
“Don loves you, too,” I whispered.
Then I walked away, leaving Tate to go into my uncle’s room.