“He’s stable. They’ve decided to begin weaning him off the ventilator. I’ve vetted his care team and brought in some renowned specialists. They all agree with this current treatment plan, meaning something has to be encouraging them.” Carter glanced behind him and then back to me, speaking quieter. “But I don’t see the improvement they apparently do. He’s very sick.”
“I wanna see him.” I’d listened to that same update for the entirety of my flight, I had to know more. I maneuvered around Carter toward a decent size waiting area with the standard chairs, sofas, and coffee machine. My gear needed a drop-off point before I tossed it in the trash but Carter stopped me.
“He’s three doors down.” Carter nodded me to a room between us and the waiting area. “The window’s open. I was able to pull some strings and have a suite here for my private use, keeping me close if Dash needed me.”
A force drew me to Dash’s room. I wasn’t prepared to see my love looking like death in a hospital bed with machines and tubes hooked to his frail body. The way he breathed, his chest expanding abnormally, had my heart shattering, a dizzy light-headedness assailed. The pack in my hand dropped to the floor as I took in my surroundings. Tension tightened my neck, shoulders and upper back, locking my muscles together in instant physical pain.
Tears sprang to my eyes. I couldn’t do life without Dash. My beautiful guy was being ravaged by some unknown disease. How was that possible in today’s age?
I started for the room, but Carter’s hand rested on my forearm, stopping me. He nodded toward the red label on the door.
“They’ve set up cautionary protocols. If you go inside, you’ll have to be in protective wear.”
I didn’t give a single shit about any of that and reached for the door handle again. It was locked, keeping me from him.
“What the fuck, Carter? That’s my husband. I need to be in there with him,” I barked, slapping at the ache in my chest, taking my irrational anger out on the person who stayed by Dash’s side, and flew me halfway around the world to be here now.
“I’m his assigned nurse.” A female voice, walking stride for stride with a woman in a business suit said. She pointed toward the cart outside his door. A stack of disposable gowns, boxes of masks, and various sizes of gloves sat ready to be used. “Let’s get you in there with him.”
“What’s happenin’ to Dash? How did he get like this?” I asked as my anger found a new target. “When I left he had a fuckin’ sniffle.”
“His physician’s on the way. He can help answer your questions,” she said, assisting in the way to properly wear the gown. I forewent the gloves, my hands ached to touch my love.
The lady in the suit said, “I’m Natalie Johnson with the Houston Department of Health. I have questions for you. Can you give me a moment then I’ll leave you alone?”
“I wanna see my husband,” I said, my jaw tightening, my hands clenching into fists. The stern, unreasonable side of my personality became my dominant side. I hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours, and all I wanted was to hold Dash’s hand in mine. “I can’t be clearer. And I’m about to have a big fuckin’ fit over it.”
I shoved the straps of the mask over each ear, as I jumped through all the hoops necessary to be with my husband. My anxiety built to crippling levels.
“The code to enter his room is 1234. He’s isolated for his protection and due to Mr. Carter’s presence in the hospital. Mr. Carter’s been in and out of the room regularly.”
“You’ve just flown in from India?” Natalie asked.
I refused to acknowledge her. Two could play these games. There was literally no world where she didn’t know that answer. Dash, my only objective. The sterile-looking room with white walls and all the beeping and whooshing of the equipment messed with my senses. The chill in the air did too. I went straight to the head of the hospital bed. My love was pale, with a pretty significant beard forming. His usually meticulous styled blond hair had slightly darkening roots, and was dirty. He’d lose his mind if he knew what he looked like. Other than those obvious truths, his face was gaunt, and he’d lost significant weight. His body had deteriorated quickly.
“How’s he gettin’ his nutrition?” I asked whoever followed me in. My hand went to Dash’s head, caressing gently. If I received an answer, I didn’t hear it. “I’m here, Dash,” I said quietly, bending to be closer to his ear. “I got here as soon as I could. What happened to you, baby?”
“Did you hear me?” Carter asked, finally garnering my attention. “He has a feeding tube.”
I gathered Dash’s hand in mine, heartbroken that his remained limp. “Dashing, you’ve got to get better for me. I can’t do this without you.”
As I spoke, Dash’s long eyelashes flittered. My heart tripped, and I leaned in, getting closer to his face.
“Please wake up. I need you to wake up,” I pleaded, my palm traveled to his nape, cupping him gently.
“They’ve slowly begun to remove the sedative. They explained he’d have reflex twitching, but that’s the first time I’ve seen his eyelashes move. I think they’ll consider it a good sign,” Carter said from the end of the bed. “I’ve been moving his arms and legs like the physical therapy team showed me, but he’s been fully unresponsive.” Carter said. Then he sighed deeply, a heavy burden escaped his lips. “Dash is like a son to me. I love him dearly. I’ll step out to give you privacy.”
My gaze was fixed on Dash’s face. My thumb caressed the top of his hand. Screw the consequences, I tugged my mask down past my lips and reverently kissed his cheek, right along the edge of the beard, lingering in the feel of his soft skin.
A tear fell from my eye onto his sunken cheek. “Please don’t leave me, Dash. I’m sorry for being so me all the time. Our argument was stupid. You don’t need counselin’, I do. I was wrong. Please don’t leave me. You have to be here with me.”
I so rarely cried that when a second tear dropped to his face, it took me by surprise. I couldn’t leave him, and leaned further in to rest my cheek against his. I memorized everything about the warm touch and feel. My breath hitched as I took his hand in mine, and placed the mask securely back on, the gentlest of touches had his finger lifting against my palm.
The hope his touch gave was staggering.
“Fight for me and our family. We need you.”
“Beau, the physician’s here. They need to talk to you,” Carter said.
