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“Let’s get this done,” I say.
“Saint and his guy Zane are waiting for us in the waiting area on the fifth floor. It’s the cardiac wing,” Steady tells us, taking his wife by the hand before he leads the way to the elevators. I wait for Quinn and Ava to get on first before getting on with Guard.
I spot Saint right away. As we make our way over, Quinn slides in beside me. I place my arm around her shoulders, and she wraps her arm around my waist.
Saint introduces us to Zane, who doesn’t look like any doctor I’ve ever seen, except for Saint. Zane’s got tattoos up his arms as far as the white coat allows me to see and around his neck. I thought I would be meeting some fifty-something-year-old man, but this guy can’t be any more than midthirties.
“This is Zane. He’s your father’s doctor and he specializes in cardiac surgery. We’ve just gone over your father’s history and prognosis. I’ll let him tell you the rest,” Saint says, turning to Zane.
As Camille and I stand together, she slips her arm through mine. “Your father is overweight and has liver damage, likely due to his lifestyle of drinking and improper nourishment. That’s not as bad as his clogged arteries. One artery has a blockage of eighty percent, another at ninety. He’s a walking time bomb at the moment. I can go in and clear the blockage, put in the stents, and that will get him over the hump, but he needs to change what he’s doing. After surgery, he’ll need rehab. Not a big deal, but in his mind, it is. Apart from the meds he’s allowed me to give him, he hasn’t gotten out of bed. He won’t walk in the halls. It seems to me like he’s given up. Even my nastiest nurse hasn’t been able to get him to move,” he says with a smirk. “If he does nothing, he’ll have anywhere between a month to six months before he has another heart attack, and I’m not sure he’ll survive.”
“Why is he refusing if he knows there’s hope?” Camille asks.
“His words were ‘Give your time to someone who’s earned it.’ He even put a DNR on his file,” Zane tells us. Camille gasps, and I look at her.
“A ‘do not resuscitate’ order,” she explains. “It’s like he wants to die.”
“Maybe you can talk some sense into him,” Zane says, expelling a breath. “I’ve tried reasoning with him.” He puts his fists on his hips. “My hands are tied without his consent.”
I look at Saint, and he nods, confirming what Zane has told us.
“I think it’s time to go see dear old dad,” I say. “Maybe I should do this alone,” I tell Camille once more, hoping she’ll agree, but I know better.
“I’m coming with you,” Camille replies. Yep! Will of steel.
“Let’s get this done.” Zane gives us Dad’s room number. I turn to Quinn. “Hang out here with Guard and Ava. Be back soon,” I say, then give her a quick kiss on the lips. Steady isn’t allowing the same space for Cammy. I don’t blame him. My parents have fucked up our childhood so much that I wouldn’t trust them anywhere near Quinn on her own.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but the man in the bed looks defeated, very unlike my father. He’s pale and looks weak. His breathing is heavy, almost labored. His eyes are shut, but he must have heard me come in. Without opening his eyes, he blurts out, “I’m not hungry. Just leave it.” He sounds sad and defeated.
“Dad.” Camille’s soft voice has him opening his eyes. His gaze moves from Cammy to me, then back to his daughter.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he mumbles, but I have a sense that there’s a sense of relief behind those words. “How did you know where to find me?”
“Mom came—” Cammy begins, but Dad lets out a string of expletives.
“I told her to leave you be,” he says, turning his head away.
“How can you say that to her?” I jump in. “Camille’s been worried sick about you.”
“It’s not Camille’s job to look after me. Or yours.”
Camille is about to burst into tears. I can hear her tamping down a sob.
“Take her outside,” I tell Steady. He looks murderous, like he wants to take a swing at my father, but he pulls Cammy into his arms and guides her back out. I’m doing my best not to get upset, but what the fuck is he thinking? I pace in front of his bed, taking a couple of deep breaths.
“Just leave, James. There’s nothing you can do here. Let me go in peace,” Dad says.
I glare at him, then grab a chair from the side of the room and bring it closer before taking a seat. “Now listen here, old man. I’m not sure what’s going on in your head, but this doesn’t have to be the end. The doctor has informed us that you’re refusing treatment. That’s stupid, and you know it. After all you’ve put us through, I’d at least like to know why you’re doing what you’re doing. We at least deserve that much.”
Dad looks stricken by my words. “Look at me,” he says, then tilts his head and gives a shrug. “I’ve ruined everything I touched. I used to have big dreams, only to have them disintegrate right in front of my eyes. I did wrong by everyone I loved, including your mother. I loved her, I really did, but look where that got me. She hates the very sight of me. She wants me dead so she can collect what little life insurance I have.”
“That’s not true.”
“It fucking is!” he shouts, then goes into a coughing fit. I grab some water from his bedside and hand it to him. After taking a sip, he says, “She told me herself. Came right in and told me if I felt anything at all for her, I’d die and give her a chance to collect the money.”
My mother is a fucking bitch!
“That’s no reason to give up on yourself.”
