“Okay,” Ava whispered, trying not to cry.
“There are a lot of tubes and monitors attached to him. And a ventilator is doing his breathing for him.”
The nurse wheeled her in, and Ava covered her mouth to stifle the sound of her cry. Tabon was barely recognizable beneath all the medical devices he was hooked up to.
“Do you want me to give you some time alone, or would you prefer it if I stayed?” the nurse asked.
“Alone, please.”
Ava got up from the wheelchair and sat in the chair closest to the hospital bed.
She covered his hand with hers. “I told you once that I couldn’t live without Aine. But, Tabon, I can’t live without you either.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she rested her head on the bed, near his side.
“I love you so much. I have since the first time I saw you. And you love me too—Saylor told me you did—so you can’t leave me.”
As hard as she tried, she couldn’t stop sobbing. She loved this man with all her heart, and because of her, he was lying in this bed, barely alive.
She felt a hand on her back, and eased up, brushing at her tears. When she saw Saylor standing behind her, Ava jumped up and threw her arms around the woman.
“I’m so sorry,” she cried.
“Shh,” Saylor soothed. “Come with me. There’s someone I want you to talk to.”
Ava looked at Tabon; her time with him had been far too short.
“We’ll come back,” Saylor whispered, taking Ava’s hand.
“Oh, the wheelchair,” Saylor said when they were partway down the hall.
“It’s okay. I don’t really need it.”
“If you’re sure…”
Ava nodded.
“There are actually two people I want you to talk to.”
Saylor stopped at another closed door and knocked. The door opened and Ava saw Tabon’s mother inside, talking to a doctor. When Sally held out her hand, Ava sat in the chair next to her. She’d been crying, like Ava had, but she had a smile on her face.
“Is this Avarie?” asked the doctor.
Ava nodded.
“Good.” The doctor looked up at Saylor. “Now that you’re both here, I’ll tell you what I’ve just told Mrs. Sharp.”
Sally held both Ava’s and Saylor’s hands and squeezed them.
“Tabon’s organs are all functioning, and we have significant brain activity, enough that we believe we can withdraw life support.”
Sally smiled and looked between her daughter and Ava. “Isn’t that wonderful news?”
“He’s going to be okay?” Ava whispered, almost too afraid to say it out loud.
“I’m not going to lie, his recovery may not be easy or quick, but yes, I believe he’s going to be okay.”
“When can I see him again?” she asked.