All the Pretty Lies
Page 30
“No.”
He doesn’t look at me. “You planning on staying here ‘round the clock?”
“Yes.”
I see his lips thin. I’m sure that’s not the answer he was hoping for.
“That pisses me off, but I’m sure you know that,” he gripes.
“Yes. Luckily, I don’t give a shit. I’m here for Sloane.”
That draws his eye. He glares at me across the bed. I know he’d just as soon plant his foot in my face as talk to me, and I’d just as soon he try. I think we could both use a little tension-relieving scuffle. But that wouldn’t do Sloane any good. And she’s the one I care about. She’s really all I care about.
“That would make her happy,” he mutters, his teeth obviously gritted.
“I hope so. I just want her to wake up. And I want to be here when she does. I want her to know that I’d never leave her. Not unless she asked me to go.”
“What if I asked you to go?” Steven asks. His expression hasn’t changed at all, but something tells me he might be actually teasing.
“I’d tell you where you could go.”
One corner of his mouth lifts up in a combination sneer-smirk-grin.
“After this is all over, I’m still probably gonna kick your ass.”
I shrug. “You’re welcome to try. After Sloane wakes up.”
He nods. “Fair enough.” We fall into a weird, somewhat amicable silence again. “Has the doctor come by yet?”
“Yeah. Said they’re still waiting for some test results. Still giving her fluids. Evidently she was pretty dehydrated. Plus the fever…”
“Dad said she wasn’t eating or drinking much for the last several days.”
He sends me a nasty look.
“Look, man, I know you blame me. And you know what? That’s fine, because I blame me. I hurt her. I hurt her bad. And I’d give anything—I mean, anything in the whole world—to go back and do things differently. And when she wakes up,” I say, stressing the when, in my speech and in my heart, “I’m gonna do everything in my power to make it up to her.”
“I hope to hell you do. And I hope to hell she doesn’t make it easy on you.”
I don’t respond. It’s possible Sloane may not remember forgiving me, may not remember the time right before she passed out. And if she doesn’t, I’ll have to deal with it. But at this point, I just want her to wake up. Even if she wakes up mad all over again, she can scream and yell, punch and kick. She can raise cane. I’d take it all. Happily. If she’ll just wake up.
********
The nurse is the same one tonight as last night, and she agreed to let me stay again. When she talks to me, she pats my arm and nods like she’s trying to make me feel better. There’s always a look in her eye that says she sees a desperate man. And she’s right.
Sloane’s dad wanted to stay, but he had some things at work come up —important things about his son’s case and the guys that shot up the house. I would never tell him that Sebastian had called me earlier with a witness, someone who knew the identity of the dirty cop dealer. I would never tell him that I’d passed that name along to Reese, who then informed his connection at the Attorney General’s office. I was just happy he was leaving and that I’d get to stay. I knew that if he wanted to press the issue, that if he wanted to stay, there would be nothing I could do. Except leave. And I’d rather die than leave Sloane’s side. Even for a couple of hours.
As is my habit, I glance over at the monitor. I see the waves and colored numbers that I always see, and they reassure me like they always do. I notice Sloane’s foot has shifted and is uncovered. I walk to the end of the bed and cup her heel, gently moving her leg toward the center of the bed. I try not to feel panicked by how cool her skin is as I tuck the covers around her feet. I guess I should be happy she’s not still burning up.
I’m just sitting down when I see her leg twitch. Then she kicks. Hard. Hard enough to jar the bed. I reach out to touch her arm and, just as my skin makes contact with hers, she starts to flail.
Sloane flings her arms and legs, shaking her head back and forth on the pillow.
“Sloane!” I call, trying to calm her down.
My first thought is that she’s having a seizure. I’m just turning toward the door to hail the nurse when I see the commotion. Muted alarms are going off, people are scrambling, and Sloane’s nurse bolts up out of her chair and runs toward me. She goes straight to Sloane’s bedside and starts assessing her.
My pulse is thudding in my head like a bass drum. I feel the horrific sensation that the bottom of the world is about to drop out from under me. Nurses don’t move like that for no reason. Whatever just happened to Sloane can’t be a good thing.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step outside,” she says in a stern voice. “Now!”
Like I’m in a dream, or better yet a nightmare, I back out of Sloane’s room. My heart bangs painfully around in my chest as I watch the scene unfold in slow motion. The nurse jerks back Sloane’s covers. I hear voices and noises, but they come to me from a thousand miles away. Two more people file into her room, one of them closing the curtain so that I can no longer see inside.
“Sir, please step out into the waiting room. We’ll call you back in as soon as we know what’s going on,” a male voice says.
Like a robot, I make my way toward the exit. I push the button and the automatic doors swing open. I step through them and turn, watching as they close again, separating me from Sloane. From what might be her taking her last breath.
I stand, staring at the blank wooden doors, praying that God in all His mercy isn’t taking Sloane from me. That He would give me a few more minutes with her, another chance to tell her I love her. When her eyes are open and she can hear how much I mean it.
I’m still facing them a few minutes later, dumbstruck and in shock, when they part and Sloane’s nurse walks through. She’s smiling and I’m confused.
“Sloane’s fine. She had some alarming rhythms on her cardiac monitor, but I found that a couple of her leads had come loose. Had you straightened her blankets or something?”
I’m so relieved, it takes me a minute to answer her. “I, um, yeah. Her foot was uncovered so I moved her leg and covered her back up.”
The nurse frowns. “And that’s it?”
“Yes. But she was shaking, too.”
“What do you mean ‘shaking’?”
“I thought she was having a seizure. She started kicking her legs and flailing her arms.”
The nurse’s brow knits. “Hmm, okay. I’ll let the doctor know. Be sure to hit the call button if something like that happens.”
Like I knew what the hell was going on, I think snidely. But I don’t say that. I’ll be nice as long as she’ll let me stay with Sloane.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nods and smiles and turns back toward the door. I follow her through and make my way to Sloane’s side. I pull my chair closer to the bed and sit on the edge, taking her hand in mine. I watch her chest move with each breath she takes. I listen to the soothing, reassuring sound of it and I close my eyes, letting my head drop onto our joined hands.
“Please wake up, Sloane. Please be okay,” I whisper, more to myself than to her.
I feel her fingers twitch in mine. They do that fairly often. But then they squeeze. And they never do that.
I jerk my head up and look at Sloane’s face. I look for signs that she’s waking up, that she can hear me or that she can feel me touching her.
“Sloane? Can you hear me?” I ask softly.
Her fingers squeeze mine again and I feel my stomach turn over. “Sloane?”
I see her eyelashes flutter and I hold my breath. After a few seconds, just when I think it might’ve been imagining things, they flutter again, opening just a crack.
Sloane opens and closes her lids several times before she opens them wide enough to focus on me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen more beautiful eyes or a more beautiful sight than Sloane looking up at me.
“Hemi?” she croaks.
“I’m right here, baby.”
I stand just long enough to reach across her and hit the red call button. If the nurse thinks I’m going to leave Sloane to come and get her, she’s lost her damn mind.
“I dreamed of you. I was drowning and the darker everything got, the harder I fought to get to you. I was so afraid I’d never see you again.”
“You kicked your arms and legs. I thought you were having a seizure, but maybe it was just your dream.”
Oh, God! I hope so!
Confusion lights her eyes. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital.”
I watch as a fearful understanding settles in. “Am I sick?”
I know she knows the answer to that before she even asked.
“They’re not sure yet. You’ve been unconscious for a while.”
“How long?”
“About twenty-nine hours. You fainted on me at my house. Do you remember coming over?”
She doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
Relief. “Good. Do you remember me telling you that I love you?” If I get to tell her anything while she’s awake, I want her to hear me say those words.
Sloane smiles, her perfect, angelic smile. “As long as I live, I will never forget that.”
My heart explodes. I drop my head to our joined hands again. I don’t want her to see how afraid I am, I don’t want her to remember me this way. I want her only to remember the good. Like the fact that I love her more than the air I breathe. I don’t want her to see that I’ll be lost without her, or that I don’t know what the hell I’ll do with the rest of my life if she dies.
I fight the sting behind my eyes. I clear my throat before I raise my head, fighting for composure. “Then I hope you have a long memory.”
Her smile turns sad. “I do, too.”
She doesn’t know that I know, and I don’t want to discuss it now. I don’t want to tarnish these moments with things like that. I only want her to feel happy and safe and loved.
The nurse rushes in. She looks first at me and then beyond me to Sloane, then she grins. “Well, hello there!”
Sloane gives her a small smile. “Hi.”
“I guess I’ll be giving the doctor a call.” Her expression says she’s more than happy to do so. “Anything I can get you, sleepy girl? Something to drink?”
Sloane smacks her lips. “Yeah, something to drink. My mouth is dry.”
“Ice water coming right up. I’ll call your father, too.” With a pleased smile, the nurse leaves us alone again.
“I’m surprised Dad left.”
“He didn’t want to, but he had to go. Something about your brother’s case.”
She doesn’t look bothered by the fact that he’s not here. I know she’s not when she raises her hand to cup the side of my face. “That’s fine. I’m just glad you’re here.”
“I’ve never left, Sloane. As long as you want me, I will always, always be by your side.”
Even though she smiles, as the doctor walks in, I know she’s thinking the same thing I am: How long do we have? How long is always for us?
********
I’ve never seen so many people come and go from a room. Of course, I’ve never spent much time in a hospital either.
As soon as one person leaves, another comes in. Doing tests, hooking her up to machines, drawing blood.
I look out at the doctor, where he sits at a separate cubby, flipping through papers. I have to give him credit. He looks busy, taking in all these results and trying to make some kind of sense of them.
I glance up at Sloane. I can see what a toll all this commotion is taking on her. I mean, she woke up and probably isn’t feeling one hundred percent. But, like the strong-willed person that she is, she smiles through the whole thing, never giving someone even so much as a dirty look. It just makes me love and admire her that much more.
I watch her eyelids get heavier and heavier. I’m not surprised when she falls asleep just after the nurse leaves for the millionth time. When Sloane’s father arrives, I’m prepared for them to ask me to leave. I’m prepared to argue and give him every reason that I shouldn’t. But her dad saves me the trouble.
“He can stay. We won’t get in your way,” he assures the nurse.
She looks undecided at first. She glances at me and I hold her gaze. “Please.”
“Okay, but when the doctor comes in, he may not let both of you stay. You can work it out between you, who has to leave.”
With that, she makes her exit. When we are alone, Sloane’s father sits quietly on the other side of the bed, watching his daughter. I know the dread and fear he feels. I know it all too well.
I don’t know how long we sit like that, both of us silently watching Sloane sleep, but the doctor finally comes in. He keeps his voice low.
“Gentlemen, it’s been a long twenty-four hours for you, and I’m sorry about that. Considering Sloane’s condition, we needed to be thorough before we made any decisions about her care.”
I feel a cold knot of alarm rise from the pit of my stomach to stick in my throat. I reach for Sloane’s hand, taking it gently in mine as I listen. Her skin feels like cool satin against mine. It makes my heart ache to think of the similarity it probably has to the lining of a casket.
The knot grows larger.
“We’ve gotten most of the results we were waiting for. Only one of them came back positive.”
He doesn’t look at me. “You planning on staying here ‘round the clock?”
“Yes.”
I see his lips thin. I’m sure that’s not the answer he was hoping for.
“That pisses me off, but I’m sure you know that,” he gripes.
“Yes. Luckily, I don’t give a shit. I’m here for Sloane.”
That draws his eye. He glares at me across the bed. I know he’d just as soon plant his foot in my face as talk to me, and I’d just as soon he try. I think we could both use a little tension-relieving scuffle. But that wouldn’t do Sloane any good. And she’s the one I care about. She’s really all I care about.
“That would make her happy,” he mutters, his teeth obviously gritted.
“I hope so. I just want her to wake up. And I want to be here when she does. I want her to know that I’d never leave her. Not unless she asked me to go.”
“What if I asked you to go?” Steven asks. His expression hasn’t changed at all, but something tells me he might be actually teasing.
“I’d tell you where you could go.”
One corner of his mouth lifts up in a combination sneer-smirk-grin.
“After this is all over, I’m still probably gonna kick your ass.”
I shrug. “You’re welcome to try. After Sloane wakes up.”
He nods. “Fair enough.” We fall into a weird, somewhat amicable silence again. “Has the doctor come by yet?”
“Yeah. Said they’re still waiting for some test results. Still giving her fluids. Evidently she was pretty dehydrated. Plus the fever…”
“Dad said she wasn’t eating or drinking much for the last several days.”
He sends me a nasty look.
“Look, man, I know you blame me. And you know what? That’s fine, because I blame me. I hurt her. I hurt her bad. And I’d give anything—I mean, anything in the whole world—to go back and do things differently. And when she wakes up,” I say, stressing the when, in my speech and in my heart, “I’m gonna do everything in my power to make it up to her.”
“I hope to hell you do. And I hope to hell she doesn’t make it easy on you.”
I don’t respond. It’s possible Sloane may not remember forgiving me, may not remember the time right before she passed out. And if she doesn’t, I’ll have to deal with it. But at this point, I just want her to wake up. Even if she wakes up mad all over again, she can scream and yell, punch and kick. She can raise cane. I’d take it all. Happily. If she’ll just wake up.
********
The nurse is the same one tonight as last night, and she agreed to let me stay again. When she talks to me, she pats my arm and nods like she’s trying to make me feel better. There’s always a look in her eye that says she sees a desperate man. And she’s right.
Sloane’s dad wanted to stay, but he had some things at work come up —important things about his son’s case and the guys that shot up the house. I would never tell him that Sebastian had called me earlier with a witness, someone who knew the identity of the dirty cop dealer. I would never tell him that I’d passed that name along to Reese, who then informed his connection at the Attorney General’s office. I was just happy he was leaving and that I’d get to stay. I knew that if he wanted to press the issue, that if he wanted to stay, there would be nothing I could do. Except leave. And I’d rather die than leave Sloane’s side. Even for a couple of hours.
As is my habit, I glance over at the monitor. I see the waves and colored numbers that I always see, and they reassure me like they always do. I notice Sloane’s foot has shifted and is uncovered. I walk to the end of the bed and cup her heel, gently moving her leg toward the center of the bed. I try not to feel panicked by how cool her skin is as I tuck the covers around her feet. I guess I should be happy she’s not still burning up.
I’m just sitting down when I see her leg twitch. Then she kicks. Hard. Hard enough to jar the bed. I reach out to touch her arm and, just as my skin makes contact with hers, she starts to flail.
Sloane flings her arms and legs, shaking her head back and forth on the pillow.
“Sloane!” I call, trying to calm her down.
My first thought is that she’s having a seizure. I’m just turning toward the door to hail the nurse when I see the commotion. Muted alarms are going off, people are scrambling, and Sloane’s nurse bolts up out of her chair and runs toward me. She goes straight to Sloane’s bedside and starts assessing her.
My pulse is thudding in my head like a bass drum. I feel the horrific sensation that the bottom of the world is about to drop out from under me. Nurses don’t move like that for no reason. Whatever just happened to Sloane can’t be a good thing.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step outside,” she says in a stern voice. “Now!”
Like I’m in a dream, or better yet a nightmare, I back out of Sloane’s room. My heart bangs painfully around in my chest as I watch the scene unfold in slow motion. The nurse jerks back Sloane’s covers. I hear voices and noises, but they come to me from a thousand miles away. Two more people file into her room, one of them closing the curtain so that I can no longer see inside.
“Sir, please step out into the waiting room. We’ll call you back in as soon as we know what’s going on,” a male voice says.
Like a robot, I make my way toward the exit. I push the button and the automatic doors swing open. I step through them and turn, watching as they close again, separating me from Sloane. From what might be her taking her last breath.
I stand, staring at the blank wooden doors, praying that God in all His mercy isn’t taking Sloane from me. That He would give me a few more minutes with her, another chance to tell her I love her. When her eyes are open and she can hear how much I mean it.
I’m still facing them a few minutes later, dumbstruck and in shock, when they part and Sloane’s nurse walks through. She’s smiling and I’m confused.
“Sloane’s fine. She had some alarming rhythms on her cardiac monitor, but I found that a couple of her leads had come loose. Had you straightened her blankets or something?”
I’m so relieved, it takes me a minute to answer her. “I, um, yeah. Her foot was uncovered so I moved her leg and covered her back up.”
The nurse frowns. “And that’s it?”
“Yes. But she was shaking, too.”
“What do you mean ‘shaking’?”
“I thought she was having a seizure. She started kicking her legs and flailing her arms.”
The nurse’s brow knits. “Hmm, okay. I’ll let the doctor know. Be sure to hit the call button if something like that happens.”
Like I knew what the hell was going on, I think snidely. But I don’t say that. I’ll be nice as long as she’ll let me stay with Sloane.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nods and smiles and turns back toward the door. I follow her through and make my way to Sloane’s side. I pull my chair closer to the bed and sit on the edge, taking her hand in mine. I watch her chest move with each breath she takes. I listen to the soothing, reassuring sound of it and I close my eyes, letting my head drop onto our joined hands.
“Please wake up, Sloane. Please be okay,” I whisper, more to myself than to her.
I feel her fingers twitch in mine. They do that fairly often. But then they squeeze. And they never do that.
I jerk my head up and look at Sloane’s face. I look for signs that she’s waking up, that she can hear me or that she can feel me touching her.
“Sloane? Can you hear me?” I ask softly.
Her fingers squeeze mine again and I feel my stomach turn over. “Sloane?”
I see her eyelashes flutter and I hold my breath. After a few seconds, just when I think it might’ve been imagining things, they flutter again, opening just a crack.
Sloane opens and closes her lids several times before she opens them wide enough to focus on me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen more beautiful eyes or a more beautiful sight than Sloane looking up at me.
“Hemi?” she croaks.
“I’m right here, baby.”
I stand just long enough to reach across her and hit the red call button. If the nurse thinks I’m going to leave Sloane to come and get her, she’s lost her damn mind.
“I dreamed of you. I was drowning and the darker everything got, the harder I fought to get to you. I was so afraid I’d never see you again.”
“You kicked your arms and legs. I thought you were having a seizure, but maybe it was just your dream.”
Oh, God! I hope so!
Confusion lights her eyes. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital.”
I watch as a fearful understanding settles in. “Am I sick?”
I know she knows the answer to that before she even asked.
“They’re not sure yet. You’ve been unconscious for a while.”
“How long?”
“About twenty-nine hours. You fainted on me at my house. Do you remember coming over?”
She doesn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
Relief. “Good. Do you remember me telling you that I love you?” If I get to tell her anything while she’s awake, I want her to hear me say those words.
Sloane smiles, her perfect, angelic smile. “As long as I live, I will never forget that.”
My heart explodes. I drop my head to our joined hands again. I don’t want her to see how afraid I am, I don’t want her to remember me this way. I want her only to remember the good. Like the fact that I love her more than the air I breathe. I don’t want her to see that I’ll be lost without her, or that I don’t know what the hell I’ll do with the rest of my life if she dies.
I fight the sting behind my eyes. I clear my throat before I raise my head, fighting for composure. “Then I hope you have a long memory.”
Her smile turns sad. “I do, too.”
She doesn’t know that I know, and I don’t want to discuss it now. I don’t want to tarnish these moments with things like that. I only want her to feel happy and safe and loved.
The nurse rushes in. She looks first at me and then beyond me to Sloane, then she grins. “Well, hello there!”
Sloane gives her a small smile. “Hi.”
“I guess I’ll be giving the doctor a call.” Her expression says she’s more than happy to do so. “Anything I can get you, sleepy girl? Something to drink?”
Sloane smacks her lips. “Yeah, something to drink. My mouth is dry.”
“Ice water coming right up. I’ll call your father, too.” With a pleased smile, the nurse leaves us alone again.
“I’m surprised Dad left.”
“He didn’t want to, but he had to go. Something about your brother’s case.”
She doesn’t look bothered by the fact that he’s not here. I know she’s not when she raises her hand to cup the side of my face. “That’s fine. I’m just glad you’re here.”
“I’ve never left, Sloane. As long as you want me, I will always, always be by your side.”
Even though she smiles, as the doctor walks in, I know she’s thinking the same thing I am: How long do we have? How long is always for us?
********
I’ve never seen so many people come and go from a room. Of course, I’ve never spent much time in a hospital either.
As soon as one person leaves, another comes in. Doing tests, hooking her up to machines, drawing blood.
I look out at the doctor, where he sits at a separate cubby, flipping through papers. I have to give him credit. He looks busy, taking in all these results and trying to make some kind of sense of them.
I glance up at Sloane. I can see what a toll all this commotion is taking on her. I mean, she woke up and probably isn’t feeling one hundred percent. But, like the strong-willed person that she is, she smiles through the whole thing, never giving someone even so much as a dirty look. It just makes me love and admire her that much more.
I watch her eyelids get heavier and heavier. I’m not surprised when she falls asleep just after the nurse leaves for the millionth time. When Sloane’s father arrives, I’m prepared for them to ask me to leave. I’m prepared to argue and give him every reason that I shouldn’t. But her dad saves me the trouble.
“He can stay. We won’t get in your way,” he assures the nurse.
She looks undecided at first. She glances at me and I hold her gaze. “Please.”
“Okay, but when the doctor comes in, he may not let both of you stay. You can work it out between you, who has to leave.”
With that, she makes her exit. When we are alone, Sloane’s father sits quietly on the other side of the bed, watching his daughter. I know the dread and fear he feels. I know it all too well.
I don’t know how long we sit like that, both of us silently watching Sloane sleep, but the doctor finally comes in. He keeps his voice low.
“Gentlemen, it’s been a long twenty-four hours for you, and I’m sorry about that. Considering Sloane’s condition, we needed to be thorough before we made any decisions about her care.”
I feel a cold knot of alarm rise from the pit of my stomach to stick in my throat. I reach for Sloane’s hand, taking it gently in mine as I listen. Her skin feels like cool satin against mine. It makes my heart ache to think of the similarity it probably has to the lining of a casket.
The knot grows larger.
“We’ve gotten most of the results we were waiting for. Only one of them came back positive.”
