“They’re still examining him.” I glanced toward the impenetrable double doors. “I haven’t heard anything yet.”
“Are you okay?” The genuine concern in Lucy’s voice made my throat tighten. “Do you want me to come?”
Relief washed over me so powerfully I almost gasped. The thought of facing this alone suddenly seemed unbearable.
“God, yes. Please.” The words escaped before I could pretend to be strong.
“I’ll be there as quick as I can. Cord will stay with Liam.”
Gratitude swelled in my chest, making my eyes sting. “Thank you.”
We disconnected, and I found myself staring at my phone screen. I should call my parents. They would want to know. But the thought of explaining everything, of managing their reactions on top of my own fears, felt overwhelming. Later. I’d call them after I knew more.
I leaned back, closing my eyes briefly against the harsh fluorescent lights. The waiting room’s sounds washed over me—muffled conversations, the occasional electronic ping, a child’s restless whimpers.
Twenty minutes later, the automatic doors swooshed open, and Lucy came barreling through, her hair windblown and her eyes wide with concern. She spotted me immediately and rushed over, dropping into the chair beside me and pulling me into a fierce hug.
“What happened?” She kept her hands on my shoulders as she pulled back.
I took a shaky breath. “He collapsed at work. One minute he was fine—teasing me about my corporate job—and the next, he just went down. His speech was slurred, and he couldn’t seem to stand up.”
Lucy’s expression grew more serious. “What are they saying?”
“The paramedics think it’s a TIA or a stroke.” I shook my head helplessly. “I don’t even know what a TIA is.”
It hadn’t even occurred to me to google it. My brain, usually so analytical, had simply frozen, fixating instead on Doc’s pale face and Diego’s concerned eyes.
“The doctors will figure it out. Have you eaten something?”
“Yeah.” I’d picked at some fries earlier at the bar, between carting trays and checking work emails. It wasn’t much, but I didn’t think I could manage anything else.
Lucy nodded. “Sit. You need a warm beverage. I’ll get something.”
I didn’t really want that either, but my bestie was of a mind that all major everything required a warm beverage to face it, so I didn’t argue as she scurried off.
Lucy returned with two styrofoam cups of what generously might be called coffee. It was the color of dishwater and smelled vaguely of burnt plastic.
“Apparently the good coffee cart closes at nine,” she explained, grimacing as she took a sip. “This is... well, it’s hot. That’s about all I can say for it.”
I wrapped my hands around the cup anyway, grateful for something to do besides stare at the doors and check my phone. The warmth seeped into my palms.
“You’re staying at Doc’s, right?” Lucy asked.
I nodded. “For a couple of weeks. I’m working remotely.” The thought of my laptop waiting back at the bar, with all those changes still needing to be made on the contract, made my stomach clench. I’d have to call my boss and explain... something. I couldn’t think about that now.
Lucy squeezed my arm. “It’ll be okay. Doc’s too ornery to let something like this keep him down.”
I tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “I hope you’re right.”
We lapsed into silence, sipping the terrible coffee. The minutes crawled by, each one stretching longer than the last. I checked my watch so often my neck started to hurt from the constant downward tilt.
Finally, a tall man in a white coat approached, clipboard in hand. “Family of Vernon Holliday?”
I jumped to my feet. “Yes. I’m his granddaughter.”
“I’m Dr. Maxwell, the neurologist on call.” He extended his hand, which I shook automatically. “The tests are back. Your grandfather experienced what we call a transient ischemicattack, or TIA. Essentially, a mini-stroke. The good news is his symptoms have resolved completely.”
Relief washed over me, but something in the doctor’s expression held me back from celebrating.
