“Yeah. He died.”
“But you said …” I gagged on my guilt, shame, and blame. Terror.
“Mi, how could I tell you? It was a different kind. A worse kind. He had transplants. Radiation.” Gyver’s eyes and voice were desperate, but I was too furious to care.
“You lied to me!”
“I didn’t want you reading into it. I was trying to protect you.”
“You can’t. No one can!” I dropped from a yell to a whisper. “You lied to me? You?”
“Mi, please understand.” Gyver stood and swore. His conflict was clear, but he shook it off his face. “I’ve got to go. I drove.”
I nodded, face blank. Inside I was collapsing.
“Say something,” he begged.
I couldn’t.
He sighed. “We need to talk, but Meagan lives across the lake; I can’t get back before visiting hours end. I’ll come first thing tomorrow.”
He was leaving me. Alone. With my emotions from earlier. Adding a new layer of grief and fear.
“Don’t go.”
“I’m sorry, Mi.” He bent to kiss my cheek. Impulsively, I turned so his lips brushed mine: stealing a little more of him before he went after Meagan. Maybe I thought he’d stay. Maybe I needed him to.
He didn’t.
He just swore softly, touched my hand, and left.
I was shattering. Or being crushed. My last bit of strength was cracking and my lungs wouldn’t cooperate. He’d left.
And I had no one left.
I was alone with nothing to do but stare at the vacant space where my horseshoe should be hanging and try to breathe despite the pressure that threatened to shred my heart and lungs. There were too many empty hours until morning and too many problems to face when it came.
I jammed the call button, and Mark stuck his head through my door. “How’s my favorite patient?”
“Sleep meds. Can I have some?” The words quivered. My lower lip did too.
“It’s only seven thirty—what’s going on?” Mark disconnected the empty bag from my pole. He put a stopper in the line.
“I’m ruining everything I touch today!” This was a melodramatic Mom comment. I took a shaky breath and tried again. “I’m in a toxic mood and I started fights with everyone.”
Mark picked up my phone from the bedside table. “So? You’re a big girl. Call and apologize.”
I drew my knees up and hugged them. “These are bigger than over-the-phone I’m sorrys.”
“And?” Mark shrugged.
“But …” I searched for another excuse and tried to take a full breath. “Visiting hours are almost over.”
Mark grinned. “Nice try, but I’ll make an exception.” He placed the phone in my hand and curled my fingers around it. “Call. Fix your fights and you’ll sleep like a baby.”
I nodded somberly and Mark patted my arm and left my room. I stared at the screen, blurred by tears that refused to stay out of my eyes. I’d made it clear to Gyver and he’d made a choice. He didn’t choose me.
A shaky exhale became a sob and I dialed.
“Hey, you. What’s up?”
“I’m sorry.” I garbled the words.
“Is this a yes?”
If this was that important to him—if I was that important to him, then he deserved a chance. A real one. “Yes. Will you come?”
“Yeah, sure. But I’m, like, twenty minutes away. Will they let me in after eight?”
My eyes flooded and my throat tightened. I didn’t deserve this guy who’d drop everything because I wanted him to hold my hand. “Yes,” I whispered as the tears spilled onto my cheeks.
“Don’t cry.” Ryan sounded sympathetic, not triumphant. “Want me to stay on the phone?”
I shook my head, tears choking my breath. “No. I’m okay.”
“All right. Soon.”
Southern Nurse might have been waiting outside the door for me to say good-bye, or she might have uncanny timing, but she came in to check on me as I shut off the phone and surrendered to my desperation and tears.
“Mark said you were out of sorts. What’s the matter, darlin’?”
I didn’t answer, just sobbed. Panic was clawing me inside out with uncertainty. I sat up on my bed and broke: tears washing down my chin and over my knees. I couldn’t find words or air.
“Breathe.” Southern Nurse rubbed my back.
I tried to. Tried to make my lungs inhale and exhale with any sort of rhythm. To banish the dizzy spots forming in the corners of my vision. When I managed a half breath, Southern Nurse—no, I couldn’t call her that anymore. I checked her name tag. When I managed a half breath, Polly said, “Good, that’s better. Now you need to get some rest. We should call your parents.”
“Please don’t call my mom. I can’t. I can’t handle her tonight. We had a fight and she’ll be a mess and I’ll have to pull it together and reassure her. I just—I just can’t. Ryan’s coming.”