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Penelope channels her brother and drives like a maniac until we hit bumper-to-bumper traffic.
“Comeon!” she shouts. “Fucking move!”
Honking the horn, she sticks her finger up at a car that cuts in front of us at the traffic lights, causing us to stop and wait for the next green light.
I slowly sink into myself, the pull of numbness a sweet release from the torment of thinking that Casper is going to die. When I was eleven and my mum left me for the second time, after promising to do better and sticking around for two months, I tried to push everyone away. It was much easier than admitting to myself that ithurt. Losing Casper forever would kill me. I don’t want to feel a thing.
It takes us almost forty-five minutes to make the twenty-minute journey, and I wish I’d never left the café. I’m holding on by a thread, desperately trying to distance myself but not being able to think about anything other than how much I need him.
He’s impossible to forget.
Penelope finds a parking space almost immediately, a rarity, and we run into the hospital, the long corridors like bright tunnels.
With my heart in my mouth, I approach a wrecked-looking Flora and Frederick.
They stand huddled together, her head on his shoulder, and tears in her eyes. Frederick is so pale, he looks in a worst condition than Casper was.
Frederick looks up and spots us running towards him. “It’s all right,” he says, raising a hand. “We couldn’t reach you again. His heartrate dropped considerably and they were worried he had some internal bleeding, but he’s stabilised and is doing better now.”
“What?” I sob. “You’re sure? Are you sure?”
“He’s all right.”
“Oh, thank God,” Penelope breathes, pressing her hand to her heart.
“Really?” I ask.
“He’s okay,” Frederick repeats. “We’ve been in his room and he’s doing well. He’s fluttered his eyes, and we thought he was going to wake up. I’m sure it won’t be long before he’s awake.”
“Why did it happen?”
Flora shrugs. “We don’t know. It was a blip. A short moment when his heart wasn’t happy. He’s stable now, Ainsley, I promise.”
I takes a second to let the words sink in. Casper is alive. I repeat that over and over again until I finally believe it.
I should never have left his side.
“Can we go in?” I ask. “Please tell me they’re not going to make me wait. I have to—”
“Of course, you can,” Flora says.
I don’t know how we can, but perhaps it’s the same way things just seem to happen for them. The same way I was arrested and then let go.
“I’ll go with Mum and Dad for a quick coffee, then be up after,” Penelope says.
I love her for giving me a minute alone with him. It’s probably not going to be pretty. I can already feel my emotions building up like a pressure cooker, and I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back when I see his chest rising and falling.
Twice today, I thought he was going to die. I’m not sure I could take a third time.
The nurse waves me by as I head into ICU. She’s the one who checked on Casper earlier, and she clearly recognises me.
I push open the door and rush to his side, my feet carrying me forwards with a life of their own. My body, as always, longs to be beside him. He looks much the same as earlier, but he has a little more colour in his cheeks now.
Sitting on the bed, I run my hands through the mop of messy hair on top of his head. I use my free hand to wipe away a stream of tears that roll continuously down my cheek.
Sobbing with the relief at having this perfect man still here with me, I curl in as if my spine is no longer able to keep me upright. “Casper,” I whisper, my forehead resting on his shoulder.
The intoxicating scent of his skin fills my lungs, and I close my eyes.
