Page 128 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

Elijah released me and quickly examined Malik, looking into Malik’s eyes, checking his pupils, and talking to him while applying pressure to his hand.

“Malik, it’s Elijah.”

Malik gave no response. Elijah’s jaw tightened. He turned to the doctors. “I need the imaging.”

Dr. Martin handed him a tablet. Elijah moved through the scans without speaking. His finger stopped on one image, enlarged it, then advanced to the next.

“How long ago was this completed?”

“Thirty-eight minutes,” Dr. Shah said.

“His examination has declined since then.”

“We’re aware.”

“The proximal catheter is obstructed. His ventricles are expanding, and he’s losing responsiveness. He needs decompression now.”

Dr. Martin lowered his voice. “I can assist, but I have a tremor that prevents me from serving as primary surgeon. We verified your credentials and reviewed your surgical history.”

“And administration?”

“Emergency privileges have been approved for this procedure. Ethics has been notified of your relationship with the family.”

Elijah’s gaze met mine. The doctor disappeared from his face for one second and the man I loved came through.

“I need to speak with Frankie alone.”

The staff stepped outside, leaving the nurse at the monitor. Elijah took both of my hands.

“There is another qualified surgeon on the way, but he’s at least an hour out. I don’t believe Malik should wait.”

“I want you.”

“You need to understand the position this puts us in. I love you. I love Malik. But with surgery, there’s always the chance for complications.”

My voice was hoarse now; I could barely speak. “Elijah, I know who you are in that operating room. I know what your hands can do. Don’t ask me to choose someone else because I don’t believe fear lives inside you when you’re helping your patients.”

His fingers tightened around mine.

“It’s not fear, it’s understanding.” His eyes moved to Malik.

The confession stripped the last of the air from the room. I pressed my forehead against his.

“Save him, Elijah.” Tears ran down my face. “Please.”

He stayed there for one breath. When he lifted his head, the steadiness I trusted sat behind his gaze.

“I’m going to repair the shunt. Dr. Martin will assist, and another pediatric neurosurgeon will review every decision as soon as he arrives.”

“Okay.”

“Once I take him through those doors, you have to let me be his surgeon.”

“I know.”

“I need your consent.”

“You have it.”