I force a weak smile. “I tried, but it’s not coming so easily these days.”
She nods, taking a sip from the coffee cup she’s holding. “We understand that. I’m surprised Eliza didn’t make you stay home.”
“Trust me, she tried.” My dad walks in, chuckling. He has a drink tray with more coffees and a bag from the bakery downstairs. He hands them over to Mr. Daniels, then sits next to me. “She let him come only because he promised to stay for just two hours, then go home and back to bed. I’m his warden.” He nudges me and winks.
I just roll my eyes.
Okay, enough small talk. I don’t want to waste my two hours sitting here. “Is Hud out of testing?”
Mrs. Nora checks her watch and nods. “They said he’d be done by now. Janine will know if he’s out yet or not. Go on since you’ve got limited time.”
Mr. Daniels hands me a coffee before I head to the nurses' station. Janine is typing on her computer but looks up as soon as I reach the desk.
“You and sleep are still not on speaking terms, I see.” She raises an eyebrow, a tiny smile playing on her lips.
“Are you, Mrs. Nora, and my mom working together to sleep shame me?”
She chuckles. “I’m a mother, too. I don’t have to conspire with yours to see you’re running yourself into the ground.”
“That’s fair,” I grumble.
She stands and comes around the desk. “I know you want to see him. Come on. He just got back from his brain scan.”
“Did he do alright with all the testing?” I ask as we walk to Hud’s room. He was having an MRI of his brain and a CT of his lungs. If everything looks good, they’ll try to remove his breathing tube soon.
She gives me a compassionate smile. “He did well, all things considered.”
Good. He’s struggled enough.
Janine knocks lightly on the closed door before pushing it open. “I picked up a stray,” she jokes, walking into the dim room.
Hud doesn’t acknowledge her. His stare is distant, his fingers slowly rubbing the breathing tube lying across his chest.
He seems more awake this evening. I hope that means they’ve reduced his sedative.
I hover near the door while Janine quietly tinkers with some of Hudson’s equipment. She finishes up by logging in his chart, then gives me a shoulder pat on her way out.
Soft mumbling comes from the mounted TV, masking the beeping of the heart monitor. It’s a relief from the silence this room usually holds.
“Hey, baby,” I call from my spot by the door. He blinks slowly, but that’s all the response I get.
Resigning myself to just keeping him company, I sit in the pink cushioned chair that has become a fixture beside his bed. I reach for his hand that is still dragging along the breathing tube, but he lets it drop away to his side.
I swallow the sting and set my coffee down next to the small whiteboard. They were hoping he would use it to better “talk” to us, but it doesn’t look like he’s touched it at all.
Hudson starts fidgeting with something by his side, a hint of purple visible between his fingers.
“I got those for you—the bubbles.”
His hand stills, the bottle going slack in his grip.
The motion hits harder than it should, but I don’t let it deter me. “They’ve sort of become our thing, right? I saw them in the gift shop downstairs…”
A tear snakes down Hud’s cheek, the first emotion he’s shown since waking up. I lean forward and tentatively take his hand.
“Hud?”
He scrunches his eyes closed and grips my hand. His chest bounces with quiet sobs that can’t escape around the tube in his throat.
