Page 49 of All She Ever Wanted Was a Real One
“Please be safe, Pat. I don’t want you on the roads right now with all this on your mind. I’m going to head over there now, and I’ll keep you posted, okay?”
“Thank you, baby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Of course.”
“I swear, nothing is more important to me right now than family, and you’re my family, Lex.”
I nodded gently before ending the call, too busy trying to swallow the lump in my throat to respond immediately. He was right. We were weeks away from becoming family in the eyes of the law, so I knew I had to be there for him. I wanted to. I knew all too well how it felt to lose a loved one. At some point, all of us had to deal with the grief packaged with the pain of losing someone we loved. Death was inevitable. At least it would give me an excuse to push Oak to the back of my mind.
“I know,” I finally said.
“I love you,” he acknowledged.
I swallowed hard before responding. “I love you too.”
I sped all the way to the hospital, doing at least ten miles over the posted speed limit the entire way. After swinging into the first available parking spot I could find, I hopped out of the car and darted inside. I stepped inside Poppy’s hospital room in the ICU as the door closed behind me. The faint scent of my perfume that still clung to my skin had commingled with the antiseptic smell inside the room. I immediately locked eyes with Pat’s parents, Cynthia and Jonathan, before my lowered gaze roamed over to the bed where Poppy lay still, as if he were asleep. Cynthia sat in the worn armchair by her father’s bedside. The metal rails were up and locked in place, keeping his tired body safe.
I eased over to the left side of his bed and gently reached over the railing to touch his hand. His hand was lukewarm as I gave it a subtle squeeze, but he remained motionless. Transparent tubes stretched from the wall to his bedside and underneath his nostrils, connecting him to the beeping monitors that measured how his body was handling everything internally.
“Thank you for coming, Alexis,” Pat’s mother finally managed to choke out. “I know Pat will be so happy that you’re here.”
I dipped my chin. “Of course. Has anyone come in to give an update?”
Pat’s stepfather chimed in while still gently rubbing his wife’s back. “As I assume you know, Pat’s grandfather suffered a massive stroke, but he has a DNI on file, so the doctors were not able to intubate him. So, they’ve given him drugs to keep him comfortable until . . .”
I swallowed hard, knowing what he was going to say without him having to finish his sentence. “D-did they say how long he has?”
His eyes traveled over Poppy as he slowly lowered and shook his head. “They’ve advised us to say our goodbyes. Pat doesn’t know about the DNI, so we’re hoping Poppy holds on until he arrives.”
“We didn’t want him to be even more worried while traveling,” Cynthia acknowledged.
A hard sigh deflated my chest, as I’d hoped and prayed for better news all the way to the hospital. I averted my teary gaze from them and over to the small flat-screen TV on the wall playing old westerns. I’d do anything to suppress the tears I felt building up behind my eyes. My eyes continued to ping-pong around the intimate room as I eased over to the window, with its open blinds letting the natural light peek through.
“Any update on Pat?” Cynthia quizzed.
I glanced back over my shoulder at her. “He texted me as I was parking and said he was boarding a flight. He should be here within a couple of hours.”
My update brought a slight smile to her face as she breathed out an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, good.”
The room fell silent for a few beats. The only constant sound was the beeping of the monitors every few seconds.
“I think he’s ready,” Cynthia announced, her voice soft as a whisper but steady, like she truly believed what she was saying.
“Don’t say that, baby,” Pat’s stepfather interjected.
“No. I mean it. I think he’s ready to be with my mother again. Ready to see his family members who went on long before him. He’s fought such a good fight. He really has. All I want is for Pat to get to say his goodbyes before?—”
The rest of the sentence caught in her throat, but we all knew what she was going to say. But nobody wanted to be the one to do it. As if not speaking it out loud would somehow change the outcome.
We spent the next couple of hours in silence, taking turns sitting next to Poppy and stroking his hand until Pat arrived and I met him in the lobby. We immediately hugged. When I pulled away from him, I noticed his tired, bloodshot eyes.
“How was your flight?” I quizzed. “Were you able to try and get any rest?”
“None,” he answered. “Too nervous. How are things in there? Any change? How are my parents?”
“Everyone is okay. Quiet. In their heads, y’know? They’ve been waiting to see you.”
“I don’t know if I can go in there,” he admitted, voice shaky.
