“One more question, where is her family now?”
“The mom is dead, yes we’re behind it, D told the dad he’s not allowed anywhere close to Trixie unless she wants him there, and only if D is around and the stepbrother—” I stop and smile at the thought of him. “He’s where assholes like him belong. The Pit.”
“So, my boyfriend's family owns an underground worse than a prison, and are assassinators, but to the world they own a well-known clinic. Okay, I can live with that.” I walk around the counter and wrap my arm around her shoulder.
“Like I was going to let you walk away now.” I kiss her, and I’m never going to stop. “Right, let's go see how your parents are doing.” I walk away but stop when Olivia grabs my arm.
“Thank you for giving me another chance.”
I cup her face, kissing her softly. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved.” She nods then gets off the stool, and grabs her bag, and slips on her sneakers.
The drive to the hospital is quiet, she's staring out the window, probably thinking about her parents. I let her have the silence. Sometimes that’s the best place, for me it is anyway.
Halfway there, I veer off into a small side street.
“Where are we?—”
“You’ll see.”
I park in front of a small bakery with pink curtains, and a chalkboard sign out front that saysFresh Today: Lemon Raspberry Cupcakes. I’ve brought her to Four of Hearts Bakery, Cain’s moms place.
Her brow arches. “You’re stopping... for cupcakes?”
I shoot her a smirk. “Not cupcakes.Acupcake.”
Her eyes narrow, trying to read me.
A few minutes later, I’m back in the car and hand her a small pink box.
She opens it slowly, and there it is. The Unicorn cupcake, just like always. She stares at it like she’s seeing a ghost.
“You remembered?” she asks quietly, voice almost small.
I glance at her sideways, starting the engine. “I haven’t forgotten anything, Olivia.”
Her cheeks flush, and she quickly looks down at the cupcake, trying to hide her smile.
By the time we get to the hospital, the mood shifts. Her hands are in her lap now, fidgeting with the sleeve of my hoodie. She doesn’t say anything as we ride the elevator up to the ICU, but I can feel the tension building in her chest just from how she’sholding herself. She’s scared, but I told her this morning, no news is good news.
We’re greeted by a doctor. Mid-forties, white coat with two pens and a tired face. Name tag reads Dr. Sanders, Critical Care.
“Olivia Banks?”
“Yes,” she answers, her voice shaking slightly. I step just behind her, close enough for her to lean on if she needs to. She doesn’t, but I can tell she wants to.
Dr. Sanders leads us toward the consultation room just off the ICU hallway.
“Your parents are stable,” he starts, in a professional tone, but with enough softness to keep it human. “But they’re both unconscious, your mother hasn’t changed, and last night your father took a turn. Nothing we are worried about as all his vitals are stable, but he is unconscious now.” He stops for a moment and then continues, “He is fighting hard to recover, we just have to give him the time.”
Olivia stiffens beside me. I rest my hand on her lower back without thinking.
“The CT scans show signs of cerebral contusions for both, essentially, bruising on the brain. Nothing requiring immediate surgical intervention, but we’re monitoring the intracranial pressure hourly. Your father’s injuries are less complex. He’s responding to pain stimuli.”
“And my mom?”
The doctor pauses. “Her condition is more critical. As you mentioned, she’s undergoing chemotherapy. Her immune system is heavily suppressed. The lacerations she sustained during the accident caused significant blood loss. We’re giving her transfusions, but her hemoglobin is still low. Her oxygen levels are being supported with a non-invasive ventilator for now.”
“Why hasn’t she woken up?” Olivia asks, voice cracking.
