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“Gideon. He can’t live alone,” she states. “I can’t leave him in New York. His family might just drop him in a center because they think he can’t be independent.”
I stare at her with confusion.
“Maybe you can talk to your buddies and find someone who might be able to figure out his seizures and sudden blindness,” she continues. “The latter only lasts for a few minutes, but it’s bad.”
I want to ask if she means the seizures or the blindness, but instead, I go with, “Has he been to the doctor?”
She nods. “They can’t find anything wrong.”
“And you want to bring him to live with us?”
“Or close by . . . he can’t live by himself,” she reiterates that part. “He’d have to go back to his family, and they’re pretty toxic.”
Somehow, I now understand what she meant when she told me they had a symbiotic relationship. He probably provides the groceries because, apparently, this woman just gives her money away. Gideon will be allowed to join us under probation, but I will say it differently.
“I heard a few rooms are being vacated in this penthouse pretty soon,” I offer. “Maybe Gideon can move here, but only after I screen him and have a team figure out what’s wrong with him.”
She hugs me. “You’re the best, you know?”
“I’m not sure if I would call me that, but I would do anything for you, baby.” I kiss the top of her head. “Anything.”
Chapter Thirty
Ameline
Three weeks.
It takes three agonizing weeks before Izzy finally opens her eyes. We got the call a couple of hours ago. It took us some scrambling to find a last-minute babysitter before we could get to the hospital, but Gabe’s grandfathers happily agreed to watch the little ones.
“Stay out late, go on a date, come get them tomorrow,” Chris encouraged with a wink as we were leaving their place.
I’m not sure if we’ll do that, but at least we have plenty of time to deal with Izzy’s doctors. They said she regained consciousness but isn’t responding yet—something called locked-in syndrome. It’s a rare condition caused by damage to the brainstem that leaves a person completely paralyzed except for their eye muscles.
According to the doctors, her prognosis could vary wildly: from partial recovery to permanent but stable to progressive decline. For now, they recommend we take her home with specialist care or find a facility equipped specifically for locked-in patients while they monitor her progress. It’s too soon to tell if this is permanent damage or if she has a chance of some mobility again.
My heart clenches with grief as I realize she may never fully recover or be her old self again. Her entire life has changed irreparably in an instant.
“Do you want to go in first?” Gabe asks gently once the doctors depart down the hall.
I nod, bracing myself. Maybe the doctors are wrong. Perhaps she’ll speak, respond to me . . .
“Izzy,” I greet her, forcing cheer into my tone despite the heaviness in my heart. What if the doctors are right and she will be like this permanently? She needs a feeding tube and lots of care.
Slowly, ever so slowly, her eyelids lift. Her eyes, clear and seemingly aware, meet mine. There’s no smile, no movement from her, but the way her gaze fixes on me . . .
I move closer, brushing the hair back from her still face. “Hey, you . . . I heard you’re awake finally. Cora misses you. We can bring her to see you soon.”
Her eyes open wider as if I had said something wrong. Maybe I said the wrong thing. I just don’t know what. Was it mentioning Cora? I just realized that hospitals are not the best places for children. Okay, I need to learn a few more things on how to raise little ones, but I’m getting there. I’ll become a pro before I have my own.
I take a deep breath before saying, “You don’t want her to come?” Izzy blinks once. “Okay, I take that as a yes.”
So the doctors are right. She can hear and even understand. She just can’t move anything but her eyes.
“I’m here to take care of your little ones while you get better,” I reassure her.
Izzy’s eyes move to the other side as if she doesn’t want to see me or maybe talk to me. I should stop assuming, though.
“Why don’t we do this? Blink once if the answer is yes and twice if it’s not, okay?”
