Chapter 53

CHAPTER 53

JESS

I didn't have much time to watch TV. On occasion, over the weekends or after dinner at night, I'd sit and watch something with my parents, but mostly, I was too tired to focus much on what was happening on the screen.

There had been a time when my mom had followed this popular medical drama, though. For a while, she and I had watched it together. Once a week, it'd been our thing. We sat down after dinner and watched the riveting stories of interns and the antics they got up to while working toward becoming full-fledged doctors.

That was the closest I'd ever come to spending time in a hospital. Firefly Grove had a family practitioner that had always stitched us up when something went wrong or tended to us when we were ill, and I'd always considered myself lucky that we'd never needed anything more than that.

Being at the hospital now was freaking terrifying. It made me realize that I'd never been grateful enough that we hadn't had much reason to visit the place often in the past.

Exhausted but unable to sleep even though the waiting room was pretty quiet and I was sitting on a comfy sofa, I got up, too wired and too scared to sit for too long. My dad was with my mom, who was getting some more tests done, but they'd said only one person could go with her.

So here I was, stuck in a waiting room, jumping every time I saw a flash of movement down the hall. Every single time a nurse or doctor rushed past, I thought they were coming to tell me bad news. They'd ruled out a heart attack for my mom, but if I didn't calm down, it felt like I would be at risk myself.

It hasn't eased my mind at all that they'd said she hadn't had one—mostly because they still suspected that whatever was wrong with her was heart related. I sighed, resuming my pacing up and down the hall between the cafeteria and the waiting room.

If they didn't have an update for me soon, I was going to burn a hole in the floor. But it was either pace or go find chores to do. Sitting still just wasn't working for me.

Slate emerged from the cafeteria, carrying two cups of something hot and a package of cookies under his arm. The poor guy was almost as pale as I was, faint dark smudges appearing under his eyes and his features hard with stress, but he smiled when he saw me, coming over and handing me one of the cups.

"It's tea," he said, taking my arm now that he had a free hand and gently guiding me back to the sofa. "I figured it was more calming than coffee and the kitchen is closed, so I couldn't get any food, but at least you've got something to snack on."

As we sat down, he gave me the cookies and I took them, setting them in my lap while wrapping my hands around the tea. "Thanks, but I can't even think about eating right now. My stomach is in knots and my throat feels too small to swallow."

He nodded, those honey-brown eyes calm as they met mine. "Your mom is going to need you tonight, baby. The cookies may not be much, but they'll give you some energy to burn. Just keep them with you and try one every once in a while."

I jerked my chin in a nod, leaning into his side as I sipped my tea. Slate's arm came up immediately, wrapping around my shoulders to hold me tight against him. "She's in the best hands possible, Jess. They're working on her and they're doing everything they can to figure this out."

I noticed that he hadn't said she would be okay, but I was grateful for it. Realistically, no one knew what was going to happen and I was glad he wasn't treating me like some na?ve fool who thought that it would be so just because he said she would be fine.

A sob suddenly rose up from the very center of my being, my hands shaking as tears wet my eyes and my chest heaved. "God, Slate. How is this happening? How did we let it go so far that we ended up having to race her to the emergency room?"

He pressed his lips to my temple, murmuring against my skin as he pulled me even closer. "This isn't your fault, Jess. No one could've foreseen that she'd collapse. We've all been watching her closely, and sure, she's been tired, but it's not like you could force her to go to the doctor just for that."

"We should have," I insisted miserably, feeling guilty all the way from my little toe to the top of my head. "I can't believe we missed all the signs. She's been off for weeks."

"You didn't miss the signs. You saw them. Everyone did, but she doesn't have a heart condition, Jess. At least, she didn't have one. You can't blame yourself for not jumping from tired to a possible heart attack in the making."

"I can," I gritted out. "I knew something was wrong, but I let my guard down and convinced myself it was just the stuff with the oil. When she told me she hadn't been sleeping well, I was relieved because it meant she really was just tired."

"Yeah, but?—"

"No." I shook my head, lifting it off his arm to look into his eyes. "The truth was that she was sick, Slate. All this time, she's been really sick and we missed it. We wrote it off because we were all too wrapped up in what was going on around us to pay enough attention to her. I should've paid more attention. I should have been more present. If I wasn't so consumed with the bottom dollar, I would never have?—"

"Enough." He caught my shaking hands before I spilled the tea all over myself, and pulled the cup away gently, reaching over to set it down on the coffee table before turning back to me. "Stop, Jess. This isn't helping. I get that you feel guilty. That's normal, I think. People are always looking for someone to blame when something like this happens and I suspect, more often than not, we turn the finger on ourselves."

Speaking softly but confidently, he held my gaze and my hands, his presence the only thing keeping me together right now. "You're not a doctor, Jess. Neither is your dad, your brother, or me. You never could have known."

"We should have," I insisted, fat, hot tears welling on my eyelids. "If I had just put her in my car and driven her to the doctor?—"

"No, baby. She hasn't been sleeping. She told you so herself. That explained why she seemed so tired all the time. She's been with other people too and none of them have noticed anything that they wouldn't have expected either. Being tired and overwhelmed is not out of the ordinary for the situation you're in."

I sniffed, squeezing my eyes shut and letting my head hang. "I know. I know, but I just feel like shit, Slate. If we had gotten her to the doctor earlier?—"

"There's no guarantee he would've picked up on this either," he said. "Things like this happen and they suck, but they come out of nowhere. She's in the best hands. We got her here in time as soon as something actually happened and we have to trust that the doctors will be able to help her."

I breathed out shakily, trying to grab his words and stuff them deep into my heart. It didn't quite work. I still didn't quite believe him, but logically, I knew he was right. Even with my limited knowledge about the inner workings of the human body, I knew that more often than not, symptoms of serious problems looked very much the same as nothing at all.

Tiredness, for example.

Nodding as I slumped against Slate's side, I rested my cheek on his shoulder and he pulled me close once more. The other thing he was right about was that raking myself over the coals wouldn't help. In fact, it would just make things worse for everyone else if I spiraled out of control.

In the safety of his arms, I let myself cry quietly, at least allowing the fear and the guilt that outlet. He held me tight, a silent pillar of support just like he had been since he'd first arrived at Merrick Meadows.

Even if I hadn't always seen it that way.

"I'm so grateful you're here," I whispered. "I don't know what we'd have done without you."

It almost fell from my lips that I loved him, but I swallowed that confession down along with the lump of fear in my throat.

Trust the doctors , I told myself.

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured against my hair, wrapping me up in both his arms and shifting so I could curl into him. "I'm right here, Jess. Whatever you need, just let me know."

I turned my body into his, all but climbing into his lap as we sat together, waiting for news while I cried on and off, both eager to hear what was going on and petrified of finding out. We stayed just like we were until I heard my brother call my name much later on.

"Jess? What's going on? Where's Mom?"

I peeled myself off of my sort-of boyfriend and looked up to see Austin rushing down the hall toward us. Looking shaken, his eyes were wide and his features taut, his shoulders rigid and his footsteps smacking the floor hard and fast.

I got up, hurrying to meet him halfway and throwing my arms around his shoulders. "Mom's getting some more tests done. Dad is with her. We haven't heard anything yet."

He hugged me fiercely, squeezing me until I was dizzy before he set me back down on my feet. "She was conscious when you last saw her, right?"

"She was," I whispered, wrapping my arm around his and leading him to the waiting room with me. "Tonight would've gone pretty differently if Slate hadn't kept his cool and snapped into action, though. I think…"

I trailed off, my throat burning with the tears I was about to shed. I couldn't bring myself to say the words, but I honestly wondered if Dad and I would've been able to get her to the hospital fast enough if Slate hadn't rushed ahead.

If he hadn't managed to wake her up in the first place and immediately concluded that she needed a hospital at all. If. If. If.

For such a small word, the implications of it were huge for our family tonight, and Austin seemed to understand what I hadn't said. He let go of me and Slate stood up, offering him a hand, but my brother pulled him into a hug instead.

"Thanks, man," he muttered to Slate, his face scrunching up as he squeezed the guy. "Just thank you."

I sniffled, waiting for them to release each other before sitting down between them, answering some more of Austin's questions until finally there was nothing left to do but wait. As silence fell between us, my thoughts were with my mom and I knew theirs were too, but I was honestly starting to wonder if no news was good news, or if no news meant there was nothing they could do, and they were simply making her comfortable in a bed somewhere before they came to get us.