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“Has he talked about the accident or me?” I asked.
“I told him that you and I talked. He accused me of moving in on you but when I told him you were staying with his family, he was irritated. Other than that, I informed him Joe’s surgery was scheduled.” He paused. “He did say thanks. Little A, Hagan’s in there somewhere but you have to tell his family to back off—he’s processing. He knows you’re all here for him. Harper and I have had it out a few times already. She thinks because she’s his twin that it trumps everything. I’m just doing what he asked. I promise if he doesn’t come out of it soon, I’ll let everyone in.”
I nodded in understanding because I thought being his girlfriend trumped everything too. I assumed he would confide in me and that I would hold him until he was ready to talk.
“Adalee, he loves you. He blames himself. It doesn’t matter whether it’s true or not.”
I responded, “I know. I just wish I could take back what I said that night. I know he loves me and was trying to protect me.”
Grabbing a tissue from my pocket, my fingers land on a hard round object. I pull it out and it’s a mint that Hagan stuck in my jacket when we were at Navy Pier. I remove the wrapper and roll it around my mouth as I come back to reality.
I lean my head on Ginger’s shoulder while waiting for Joe’s surgery to conclude. I explained why Hagan wasn’t here and what was going on between Hagan and everybody. She keeps patting my leg—comforting me—even though her fiancé is in surgery.
If I’m quiet, I can hear Hagan calling my name. It sounds a hundred miles away, echoing like he’s in a tunnel. I must be dreaming. I shake my head and wipe my eyes, but I still hear it. Ginger nudges me with her shoulder.
Suddenly, Hagan stands towering over me with my name on repeat. “Please, Adalee, say I’m not too late.”
My eyes travel from his athletic pants up his chest to his face. There are zero dimples and his hair is gone. He has black circles under his eyes, and his face is thinner. He crouches down, with uncertainty in his gaze. He hesitates to touch me.
As I stand up, he does also. Bursting into tears, with an almost silent, broken voice, I ask, “Are you okay? Oh my God. Are you okay?”
My stomach churns at how he’s been beating himself up and the part I played in causing him to spiral. I touch his sunken cheeks and he leans into one of my palms. It’s his way of communicating that he needs me and my touch.
He tips his head, reassuring me as he blankets my body with his arms. His tone is gentle, but he speaks fast like he needs to spit this out or I won’t give him another chance.
“Logan gave me your letter. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need an apology. I need your strength and your love.” My hands stay firmly in place because I can’t let him go.
He peers into my soul with his caramel brown eyes. “I’m going to love you for life. No…even longer. I’m loving you forever because even when I die, I won’t stop loving you.” His hands run up and down my back. “Longer than life, Adalee.”
I slide my arms around his neck, jumping up and surrounding his waist with my legs. It’s his favorite position whether we’re having sex or playing around. While I cry into his shoulder, he keeps saying, “Tell me. Tell me.” They’re tears of relief that no matter what happens in our life, we‘re facing it together.
I whisper, “You’re just in time. I love you, Hagan Chatham.”
Even though all eyes are on us, and we hear mini claps in the background, Hagan brushes his lips across mine. “I love you. I’m so sorry I put you through this.” Another kiss and one of his tear’s creeks over his top lip and onto mine.
Our reunion is cut short as the double steel doors open and two doctors walk out. I slide down Hagan’s chest with my feet, now on the floor. Hagan grips me around the waist, resting his chin on my head. His hold tightens when doctors pull their mask down almost simultaneously. Then they grab their hats, wad them up and throw them in the trash. The tension is Hagan’s body returns.
Mr. and Mrs. Danke rise, and I see the fear in their rigid stance. Joe’s father steadies his wife, placing his arm around her shoulder. The baseball players are holding hands in solidarity.
It’s taking forever for the doctors to walk thirty feet. The elevators open behind us. Hagan’s chin comes off my head, and we both look over. In walks my dad, Hagan’s entire family, and all three of Hagan’s roommates. Hagan squeezes me and I feel him relax, a little.
But it’s Ginger who darts to the doctors. “How did he do? He’s strong. Is he awake?” she asks peppering them with questions. They smile and I feel the whole room expel a breath.
Who knew a simple smile could say so much.
Hagan presses his lips against my hair, and utters, “He made it.” I nod letting him know I hear him.
The doctors ask the Danke’s if they want to talk somewhere private and they shake their heads. “All of us love him so whatever you say, we need to hear it at the same time,” Joe’s mom responds.
I notice one of the lab coats says, “Dr. Henry Newcastle.” He’s the from Cleveland Clinic.
Dr. Newcastle is the first to speak. “Joe is in recovery. He’s still asleep. We want his brain to rest after surgery, so he’ll be out for a while.”
Ginger says, “But he’s going to be okay?”
The other doctor says, “I’m Dr. Wilcox. He’s young and you’re right, he’s strong and has a thick skull.” This brings some much needed levity. “Based on his age, his overall health, and no pre-existing conditions, we expect he’ll have a full recovery. But it will take time, so please don’t pressure him.
