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We fall into silence, the only occasional whisper filling the air. Penelope sits beside me as an hour passes by. I watch the clock, listening to each agonising second nosily ticking by; a constant reminder of our endless wait.
“He’s doesn’t stop talking about you,” Penelope says.
I look at her through tear-filled eyes with a broken heart. “For the longest time I thought I hated him. I was so stupid, but all we did was fight. It took an embarrassingly long time to realise it was something else entirely.”
She smiles, and I notice a dimple in the same place as her brother’s. “He doesn’t always make things easy.”
“That’s an understatement, but this one was all on me. I misread our first meeting. If I’d just allowed him to talk…”
She squeezes my hand. “Good thing you have the rest of your lives to make up for it.” Her voice is strong and soothes a part of me that insists on believing he won’t make it.
His sister is so sure.
Hell, everyone in here is talking about what they’ll do when he’s awake and comes home. I’m the only silent one, wondering how I will even get out of bed when he dies.
I haven’t had nearly long enough with him.
He has to hold on for me.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
After an agonising hour of waiting, a surgeon walks in, and I hold my breath, steeling myself for the worst. She smiles, but it’s not particular joyful or reaching her eyes, so it’s hard to tell what she’s going to say. I study her for any signs of sympathy.
“How is he?” Frederick asks. I’ve never heard him sound scared before. He’s usually the definition of composure: strong, solid, rational. Casper’s ‘incident’ has made him seem small.
“He’s out of surgery now. He sustained three stab wounds with minor trauma to his liver and spleen, but we were able to repair the damage to both. He’s in a serious but stable condition.”
A sob of relief rattles up my throat. I long to see him so much, I ache with the distance forced between us. When I see him, feel his warmth, and listen to his heartbeat, I will be okay.
Until then, I’m still in Hell.
“Where is he?” Frederick asks.
“We’ve taken him to the ICU.”
“When can we see him?” Flora asks.
“It’s immediate family for now. I can allow four at a time, but only for ten minutes.”
“N-no, I need to see him,” I whisper, my voice crushed with the hell of having to wait here. I will climb the walls if I have to sit in the room any longer.
Penelope grabs my arm and pulls me up with her. “Us and my parents,” she says.
Oh, thank God. I squeeze her hand in thanks. The surgeon doesn’t know that I’m not immediate family.
Freya, Imani, Reggie, and Marvin watch us go, talking about how he’ll wake up soon and they knew he would be okay.
We’re led along stark corridors lined with strip lights and into an intensive care room that smells so sterile you could eat off the floor.
Casper lies on a bed against the far wall. Beside him, a machine beeps, telling us that he’s still here. There are wires attached to his bare chest, and I hate the sight of them.
Other than a pale complexion, he looks fine and could easily be mistaken for taking a nap.
“Casper… it’s me,” I whisper, stepping closer to him. “Ainsley.”
There’s nothing on his face giving him oxygen, which must be a good sign. He was stabbed and had surgery for hours and he’s breathing on his own.
I stumble forwards again, almost by his side, and wipe the tears from my eyes.
