Page 127 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

I didn’t know whether I was reassuring her or myself.

“We’ll all be there soon.”

I ended the call and returned my hand to Malik’s. The door opened five minutes later, and Dr. Shah entered with an older man in navy scrubs. Silver threaded through his beard, and a surgical cap covered his hair.

“I’m Dr. Martin, chief of pediatric neurosurgery.”

I stood.

“Did you call Elijah?”

“We reached Dr. Valentine. He was at Barnes and is coming over now.”

The pressure behind my ribs eased enough for me to breathe.

“Will you let him operate?”

“We need to speak with him first.”

“He can do it.”

“Dr. Valentine completed pediatric neurosurgery rotations during his residency and has experience performing shunt revisions with children. However, he does not currently practice as a pediatric neurosurgeon.”

“He knows Malik.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” My voice cracked.

Dr. Martin’s gaze moved to Malik.

“Our concern isn’t whether Dr. Valentine cares for him. We were informed that you two have a personal relationship. That made more sense about why you insist on him operating, but unfortunately, it creates an ethical conflict that must be addressed. We also have to confirm the limits of his privileges here.”

I heard him, but I didn’t give a fuck about none of that. “I didn’t request Elijah because of our personal relationship. I requested him because he’s the best and I trust him with my son.”

“I understand.”

The monitor beside Malik changed pitch. A nurse entered and checked his blood pressure. She called his name and pressed against his fingernail.

Malik’s arm moved weakly.

The nurse looked at the doctors. “His response has decreased.”

Everything inside the room accelerated. Dr. Shah examined Malik’s pupils while the nurse raised the head of his bed. Dr. Martin stepped into the hallway and lifted a phone to his ear. I remained beside Malik, holding his hand while people moved around us. A doctor called for another medication. Someone said the operating room was ready.

Then Elijah walked through the door.

His white coat hung open over navy scrubs. A hospital identification badge swung from his pocket. He crossed the room without looking anywhere but at Malik.

The anxiety I had was replaced with hope.

“Elijah.”

He reached me and drew me into his embrace.

“I’m here.”

My tears dampened his shirt. “He won’t wake up.”