He’s safe.
“I love you, Mackie. I couldn’t bear to have anything happen to you. I didn’t even think. I saw that bottle coming, and I just reacted. You’re the love of my life. I would die to keep you safe.”
“You think I want that? You think I’d be okay with that?” Something darkens in his eyes as he watches me. “I love you too, but you need to be here to love me, so next time, don’t.”
He remains silent, and I know I won’t get a promise from him. Instead, he tugs me up and into his arms. We stay like that, locked together, just reassuring ourselves we are okay. My tears fall slowly, and I know he feels them, but he doesn’t say anything. He holds me and lets me cry.
When I feel strong enough, I pull away and wipe my arm with my sleeve, sniffling. “Enough crying, I’m sick of it. I swear your dad and Conan thought they were going to have to carry me in here.”
“I’m glad you had them.” He smiles. “I’ll thank Conan again later.”
“You sure will.” I huff. “I need to wash my face,” I mutter as I stand, but I linger before kissing him. “I’m still mad at you.”
“You can be mad for the rest of our lives, just don’t go anywhere,” he teases.
“Sorry, you’re stuck with me,” I retort with a smile as I duck into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. Turning the faucet on, I hang my head and let fear wash through me, my hands gripping the edge of the cabinet.
He’s fine. He’s fine.
How did one of the happiest nights of my life turn out like this? The moment I saw him go down, I realized two things.
One, I can’t live without Noah.
Two, I’m never letting him go.
I cup my hands, filling them with cold water before splashing it on my face and scrubbing. When I look into the mirror, my eyes are swollen and red, my cheeks are blotchy, and my hair is wet, but thereisn’t much I can do about it. Grabbing a towel, I dry my face and shut off the sink, when I hear the door to the room open.
Hurrying to the bathroom door, I crack it to call out to Conan to let him know I’m here, but he isn’t the one who steps into the room. It’s a doctor. Throwing the towel behind me, I prepare to go out there, but when he speaks, something roots me in place. A strange mix of anxiety and adrenaline courses through me.
“Noah, I heard you’ve been getting into fights.” A man in a doctor’s uniform smiles at Noah, clearly familiar as he teases him. “I came as soon as I could. I looked at the new scans.”
“Henry.” Noah sighs. “Not now, okay?”
Lingering at the bathroom door, I eavesdrop as he walks closer. “Yes, now. What were you thinking? A head injury like this is bound to worsen your condition. We will need to take more scans, but you need to be prepared, Noah. This could have shortened your life. Your brain was already under stress, and now without surgery, you will die.”
“Henry,” Noah mutters quietly, “we’ll talk later, when everyone is gone, okay?”
My eyes fly to the door where Noah’s father, mother, and Conan stand, all of us listening.
“No, now. We need to perform the surgery, Noah. You were already having bad symptoms, but with this, it’s dangerous. You could die?—”
“What do you mean, he could die?” I ask as I step from the bathroom, my eyes going to Noah in shock. He looks guilty as hell and won’t look at me.
“Shit.” Henry, the doctor, winces as he looks at me then Noah. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean?” I press, and they both look at me. Henry glances at Noah, who nods, looking wounded and defeated.
“I, um, I’ve been treating Noah for a while now. He has a blood clot in his brain from repeated trauma after his accidents while driving. It’s in a dangerous place and affects his brain activity, giving him symptoms you have probably seen. This blow to the head, though, could have made that clot much worse. He could be bleeding into hisbrain,” he explains in a rush, clutching his iPad as he looks between us. “Sorry.”
My heart sinks as I look at Noah’s guilty face. “Noah, what is he talking about?” My voice is barely audible over my fear, something niggling at me like it has been for a while.
The nosebleeds.
The headaches.
The pills . . .
Oh god.
