Page 7 of Life Or Death

“We?”

“I’ll cover all her medical expenses, and you make all decisions regarding her care.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Tori stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the war playing out behind her eyes—the instinct to keep hating me versus the desperate need to do what’s best for Jess.

“How will that work when everyone here thinks you’re her husband? I mean, they’re not going to listen to me.”

I’m more worried about what will happen when people around here start asking questions, and they realize I’m not Jess’s husband, but I keep that much to myself.

“I’ll speak with her team of doctors and give them permission to discuss her treatment plan with you. If that doesn’t work, you just tell me what you decide, and I’ll convey the message to them. Whatever you say goes.”

She studies me for a long moment before finally speaking again. “I don’t like this, but I’ll do whatever needs to be done to see Jess through this, even if that means working with you.”

I cock my head to the side. “Didn’t think I needed to remind you, but you remember you work for me, right? I might not oversee your daily duties, but I’m a partial owner of The Hideaway, and I sign your paycheck every week.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?”

I shake my head. “Like I said, it’s just a reminder. You’re so worried about working with me, when you already work for me.”

“This is different. I can find another job, but Jess can’t find her way out of this without both of us.”

I nod sharply. “Glad you see it that way.”

She exhales, and some of the tension leaves her shoulders.

“I have one condition, though.” Her voice is quiet but steady as she meets my gaze. She’s ballsy as fuck, and under different circumstances I might applaud her for her efforts.

“Let’s hear it.”

“The second Jess wakes up, I want you gone. You can continue to pay her bills, but your presence around her isn’t welcome. You don’t get to be the hero in her story. You don’t get to be anything to her.”

Everything in me wants to argue. I’m nobody’s hero, least of all Jess’s, but walking away from her isn’t something I’m sure I can do. If I could, she wouldn’t have been working in that bar.

“Fine,” I growl. The single word leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Suddenly, a throat clears behind us, and both our heads snap toward the sound. Standing in the mouth of the waiting room is one of Jess’s doctors, and he’s flanked by two other people, neither of whom I’m familiar with.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Holland, but I was hoping to catch you before you left.”

There doesn’t appear to be any urgency in the manner in which he says it, but my stomach still drops.

“Is everything okay?”

“For the moment, yes. My team and I feel your wife is stable enough for us to perform the first excision.”

Every muscle in my shoulders goes rigid, and my spine straightens. I don’t know why those words have me on edge. Jess being stable enough to undergo her first surgery is good news. It’s the first step in her recovery. Yet all I can do is stare at the doctor and wonder if he’s capable. I’ve always been a man of action. If something is broken, I fix it. If there’s an obstacle standing in my way, I remove it. It’s a control thing, and right now I’m fucking helpless and at the mercy of the man standing before me.

It’s his hands that are gonna be doing the fixing, and that realization has me itching to wrap mine around his throat. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’ll kill him and his whole family if Jess dies on his watch, but I manage to keep my crazy at bay.

“Okay,” I say, my voice raw. “When?”

The doctor glances at the two people flanking him—a man in a cheap suit with a clipboard and a woman wearing a lanyard around her neck and a practiced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Ideally, we’d like to go in as soon as possible.” He adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “It’s just a matter of housekeeping, so to speak.”

“Housekeeping,” I repeat flatly. What the fuck does that mean? Do they not have a fucking room for her?

The doctor gestures to the man on his left. “This is Mr. Reeves, our hospital administrator.” Then to the woman. “And Ms. Calloway, Mrs. Holland’s case manager.” He pauses, something shifting in his expression before his eyes meet mine again. “It is our understanding that Mrs. Holland doesn’t have insurance.”