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“Yours,” I confirm. “And you’re mine.”
* * *
Seven hundred and twenty-six days. That’s the number of days I’ve spent in a hospital bed, attached to monitors with an IV-line protruding from either my arm or the back of my hand. In all of that time, I never imagined what it would be like to be sitting in a chair watching Sloane.
I’d much rather be the one in the bed. The doctors say she’s going to be all right. That she’s going to wake up. But what if they’re wrong?
Knox and Max are in the adjoining den. Knox sits in a chair that allows him to see both the television set and me. His concern for me is evident, and it’s touching, but I’m not the one who is in a coma.
Once again, I’m blown away by Jack Sullivan’s generosity. We’re in a VIP Suite at a hospital in Kuala Lumpur, and while I’ve spent far too much of my life in hospitals, I didn’t know suites like this existed. It would’ve been so much better for my family if they’d had this kind of space when I’d been living in a hospital.
The suite boasts two full private bathrooms. Back home, the bathrooms were large enough to accommodate wheelchairs, but not much larger, with toilets and showers equipped for frail people. And there was no real thought or accommodation given to space for visitors.
This suite is nicer than many resorts I’ve stayed in. The view is of a golf course. A golf course!
If Sloane would wake up, she’d appreciate it. Or maybe not. But I imagine she’d see the stark difference between this palace and Duke. We might laugh about it. If she’d wake up.
My phone rings. My phone is once again on. I’ve been told that no one should be able to trace it. They don’t believe Sloane and I are still in danger, but there are a lot of open questions. I want Sloane to wake up because she’s my sister and I love her. But there are many people waiting for her to wake up to get questions answered.
“Jimmy? How was school?”
Jimmy far prefers text over speaking on a phone. But, for the time being, we’re limiting our communications to verbal ones.
“No complaints so far. Everyone’s asking about you.” Jimmy teaches high school English, and those kids don’t know who I am, so I know he’s talking about the faculty. We teach at a private school that’s kindergarten through twelfth grade. The pay is better than public school, so when we both landed jobs there, it felt like we’d won the lottery.
“Did you stop by my classroom?”
“It looks great. I took pics. Is it okay for me to text them to you?”
“Supposedly.” My gaze meets Knox’s. His brow furrows. I doubt he can hear me from the armchair. He’s technically sitting in another room, although the space between the bedroom area and the sitting area is wide open. “I’ll wait. Better to be safe,” Jimmy says. “Just trust me. We did a good job. You’re gonna be happy.” When Jimmy told the other teachers about my sister, the lower school teachers pulled together and decorated my classroom. A retired teacher returned as a substitute teacher until I can make it back home. “How’s Sloane?”
“The doctors expect she’ll wake up soon. We still don’t know why she had such a horrible reaction. If they were drugging her, it could be a drug interaction.” My fingers trace the outline of Sloane’s knuckles. “We’re waiting on the toxicology results.”
Beneath my fingers, Sloane’s hand twitches. My breath catches.
“Jimmy, I think she’s waking up.”
CHAPTER 39
Knox
“I heard she’s awake.”
Various doctors have been in and out of the suite. I’ve been relaying updates to the team as I get them, stepping out of the room as needed for quiet.
The tall lean man in the corridor outside the suite is not a medical professional. He’s in dark jeans, black leather loafers, and a navy and black plaid sports coat. His hands are relaxed at his side.
“I’m not sure we’ve met,” I say, tilting my head, openly studying the stranger.
“We haven’t, officially.” He scans the hallway, dismissive of me. “Is the doctor with her?” he asks, gesturing to Sloane’s hospital suite.
“There’s a nurse. And my girlfriend.” It’s the first time I’ve applied that word to Sage, but I’m not about to give this stranger her name. Hearing the word, though…I like saying it.
“Can we go outside?” he asks.
“Why?”
His hands remain relaxed in a non-threatening position. “So we can speak. Without being overheard.”
