Sobs consume my words, my eyes so blurred and burned with tears, I can’t see in front of me. I wail like the siren overhead and shake with frustration and fear.
“We’re here,” one of them says.
Before, everything seemed slowed, time and motion gooped and dragging. Now it’s greased and rapid. A flurry of activity with every word quick and staccato. Every motion is a blur. They wheel Zo away within seconds of our arrival, and I’m left standing in the middle of the waiting room alone, incongruous in my dress and heels.
“Banner!” Mama comes into the waiting room, followed by my father, Anna, my niece, and my sister Camilla. “Where is he?”
“They just took him.” My throat closes, and I can’t say anything more. My fears feel like boulders on my shoulders and pebbles in my belly.
Mama doesn’t say anything, but the look she gives me repeats her insult from earlier.
Puta.
She and I stare at one another, knowing that the man fighting for his life is not the man I love. At least not the way Mama wants me to, but I don’t live any part of my life to satisfy other people, and I’m damn tired of conducting my love life by the dictates of others.
“Mi ni?a,” Papa says, gathering me close.
I fall into his arms, into his familiar scent. If sawdust has a smell, my father carries it, from always being on his construction work sites. It reminds me of how hard he worked to provide the best life for us that he could. His arms remind me of how he has constantly supported my dreams, even when he couldn’t see that high, couldn’t imagine Ivy League colleges or living this fast-paced life surrounded by obscenely wealthy people talented beyond what the average person can comprehend. He supported me through everything. He supports me now.
I’m still buried in Papa’s chest when my mother’s voice cuts into the small slice of peace I’ve managed to find in the last hour’s chaos.
“You have some nerve coming here,” she snaps.
I lift and turn my head, shocked to see Jared standing in the waiting room, changed into jeans and a Wharton School of Business sweatshirt.
With studied patience, he holds my mother’s stare and absorbs her harsh words without replying—a feat for him, I know.
“I, uh. . .” he clears his throat and extends a small bag to me “. . . thought you might like to change in case you’re here for a while. Iris sent some things she thought might work.”
My father triangulates a look between Jared, me, and finally the angry flush of my mother’s face.
“Jared, hey. Thank you.” I walk over and take the bag with a grateful smile. My body hums being this close to him. Not for sex. Just to be held and cared for by him. That’ll have to wait.
“Papa, this is my friend Jared.” I ignore Mama’s scoff at the word friend. “Jared, my father, Marco, sister Camilla, and niece Anna.”
“Hi.” Jared offers a slight smile and inclination of his head to each family member.
It’s like we’re inside a drum the air is so tight, charged with tension and questions. And from my sister, curiosity and appreciation. Her gaze, filled with interest, drags over Jared’s tall, athletic frame and the chiseled lines of his face, the rumpled fairness of his hair. There was a time when I would have deferred, assumed that any man my sister expressed interest in would prefer her, but not with this one. And even though I have a lot to explain, I want her to know from the beginning that this one is off limits. More than anything, I just need him to hold me, and that we can’t do in the open just yet.
“Jared.” I place a hand on his arm to capture his attention. “Can I speak to you for a sec?”
He nods, looking slightly relieved.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell my family. I hold up my cell. “If the doctor comes in the next minute or so, just call.”
Their speculation chases us down the hall, but at least for the next few minutes I don’t care. I duck into an empty hospital room, drag Jared in behind me by the hand, and close the door. As soon as we’re inside, his arms surround me. I drop my head to the curve of his neck and fight back an onslaught of tears. It’s been so much, for so long, and tonight seems to be nudging me over the edge. A few tears leak into the warmth of his skin, and one large hand cups my face and pushes my hair back.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, searching my face. “Let it go, Ban.”
His words so considerate and him being here just like I need, it makes it feel like for just a moment I can let go. That the burden I’ve been carrying for the last few months, the one that has cracked me in places and sometimes been too heavy, I can set aside.
“Oh, God, Jared.” Tears drown my words for long moments while I try to pull it together, but I can’t stem the flow. “I was so scared in the ambulance. I thought he was going to . . .”
I can’t say the word, the one I rarely even allowed myself to even think for the last three months.
“He’ll be okay,” Jared assures me. “I know it. That man is not going out like that. He’ll stick around if only to make my life miserable.”
That coaxes a small smile from me as he knew it would. I link our fingers and look up at him, taking in the handsome face and the rare tenderness he reserves for pretty much only me.
“I think the two of you will be great friends one day,” I tell him, and I mean it. Under the right circumstances and with some time, I could see them appreciating the differences in the other.
Jared conveys his skepticism about that with one lifted brow.
“I hope we’ll get the chance.” He turns me toward the small bathroom in the empty two-bed suite. “Go change so we can get back to your family. I have a hard enough road ahead with them.”
That could be true, especially with my mother, but I want him to know that it won’t change the way I feel.
I’m poised to go change with my back facing the bathroom door.