Mia’s movements are jerky as she yanks the back door open. I pull Laney onto my lap, cradling her to my chest, and push out of the car. We walk at a clipped pace to the entrance of the Cancer Treatment Center and the automatic doors slide open. When the woman at the front desk sees Laney in my arms, her eyes go wide and she flies out of her chair and disappears behind the wall. Suddenly, two nurses meet us and we’re quickly ushered into an exam room.
I hate these fucking rooms. They’re chilly and sterile, and there is no way in hell I’m laying Laney down on that crinkly-ass paper when I know she’s much safer in my arms. Folding into one of the chairs, I bring Laney down with me and adjust her body so I can keep a hold of her while one of the nurses begins taking her vital signs. Mia is standing against the far wall with tears running down her face and she scoots out of the way when the door opens. Dr. Hopkins rushes into the room and starts firing off questions to the nurse.
“What’s her blood pressure?” She pulls a light out of her pocket and checks both of Laney’s eyes.
“BP is 82/50, pulse 132, respirations 34, temperature 102.8 and oxygen level is 94 percent.” Frustration and apprehension are building up inside of me with each number that’s thrown out, because I have absolutely no fucking clue what they mean. My eyes stay focused on Dr. Hopkins’ face, looking for any indication that she likes or doesn’t like what she’s hearing, but she stays impassively calm, which does nothing for my growing anger.
“Call upstairs, I want her admitted to the ICU,” she says, glancing over at me. When I open my mouth to talk, she holds up a finger and starts firing off more orders. The nurse is writing furiously on a pad of paper, and I have no idea how these people are able to look so goddamn composed when my skin is crawling so fucking bad I want rip it from my own body. “Order a chest X-ray, PA and Lateral, ABGs, CBC, CMP, blood cultures, and a sputum culture, if we can get one. Let’s get her on two liters of oxygen to start.” Dr. Hopkins brings her stethoscope to Laney’s chest. “STAT!” she hollers and the nurse hurries out of the room.
My heart is pounding against my ribcage, adrenaline and fear are running rapidly through my veins, and I’m on the verge of completely losing control. I look down at Laney’s tiny frame wrapped in my lap and I remember all the times she used to hold me like this when I was sick. Her fingers would make long, slow strokes along the top of my head, and she would hum . . . she would always hum. I squeeze my eyes shut to try and remember the song, but for the life of me I can’t.
Dr. Hopkins motions for Mia to sit down, and she slides into the seat next to mine. When I see her hand shaking in her lap, I reach over and lace my fingers with hers. She looks up at me with sad eyes and I give her a slight nod, silently indicating that together we’ll get through this.
Dr. Hopkins clears her throat and we both swivel to look at her. “Can you tell me what symptoms Laney has been having?” she asks. Her voice is soft and calm, and once again I want to scream.
“She’s had a cough for a couple of weeks,” I answer, looking at Mia for confirmation.
“Probably three to four weeks,” she agrees, wiping the tears from her face. “Her cough has gotten worse the past couple of days, along with her exhaustion. She’s been sleeping almost nonstop.” Dr. Hopkins is watching her intently. Mia glances at me and I squeeze her hand, urging her to continue. “She’s had a fever and chills, and this morning she was complaining of a headache. She also just started breathing a lot faster and harder than normal, and she’s been really weak.”
Dr. Hopkins rests a hand on Mia’s knee. “Thank you.” Mia nods, a fresh batch of tears falling down her face. Laney groans and I adjust her on my lap, wondering where the damn nurses went and why they haven’t started her on the oxygen yet.
The door busts open and everything erupts into a flurry of activity. Laney is taken from my arms and placed on a gurney. Clear plastic tubing is placed around her head and inserted into her nose. She’s immediately whisked away and I jump up from my seat to run after them, desperate to stay with my sister. Laney needs me, and there is no way in hell I’m leaving her side.
Several of the nurses are rattling things off to each other as they wheel her down the hall, but what they’re saying doesn’t make sense to me. My eyes stay focused on the sight of Laney’s frail body lying limp on the crisp white sheet. A set of double doors fly open and shut in my face, and I’m left standing in the hall, staring through a small rectangular window.
So this is what it feels like . . .
Tears burn the back of my eyes and I swallow hard. I’ve walked past people crying in a hospital before; I’ve even seen people wailing over a loved one. But never in a million years did I think it would be me. I’ve never known how it feels to watch your loved one carted off and have absolutely no idea what’s going to happen to them, not knowing if the next time you see them they’ll be alive or . . . gone.
A gentle hand lands on my back and I whirl around, grabbing onto Mia, burying my face in her hair. Mia’s arms wrap around my neck, and for the first time since I found out Laney has cancer, I cry. My tears soak through Mia’s shirt, but she doesn’t move. She just stands there like the rock I need her to be.
“GENTLEMAN, YOU MADE THE right decision.” I grip Mark’s hand firmly in mine then move to Brady, and Mason follows suit.
“We’ve already signed, Mark. You can stop the ass-kissing,” Mason quips, earning a boisterous laugh from our two new business partners. We’ve spent the last two hours going over the contract and ironing out every little detail. My eyes hurt, my ass hurts and I’m ready for some grub. “We’re starving,” Mason says as if he read my mind. “Where can we get something to eat?”
Mark rattles off the address of a steak house down the road as we grab our jackets and walk toward the front door. I drape my coat over my arm and reach into the pocket for my phone, aggravated at myself for not checking it sooner. I know I should have, but I got caught up in the meeting and completely lost track of time. My hand comes up empty and I instantly begin to panic.
“I’ll be right back.” Spinning around, I take off down the hall to the conference room we just left. I frantically search the room but come up empty-handed. “Shit,” I mumble, running toward the door.
Mason is already outside and getting in the car when I come barreling out. “What’s up?” he asks, arm propped up on his door.
“I can’t find my fucking phone.” Yanking the door open, I sigh deeply when I find my cell wedged between the seat and center console. “How the fuck did that get there?” I growl, pressing the side button to turn it on. My screen flashes with five missed calls, but I scroll past them and click on the first text.
Mia: Laney is really sick. They’re admitting her to the hospital. Please call.
My stomach drops. Laney. Fuck, this is not happening. “Get in the car—now. Let’s go!” I yell. Mason must register the panic on my face because he doesn’t waste any time jumping in the car and peeling out of the parking lot.
Mia: Where are you, Levi? You need to come home.
“FUCK!” I roar, slamming my fist into the dash. “Step on it, Mason. I need to get home.” He glances over at me but doesn’t say a word. Smart boy.
Luke: They’re admitting Laney to ICU and running a bunch of tests. I’ll keep you updated.
That was an hour ago. What the fuck is going on? How did things go from bad to worse so fast? Is she okay? I can’t believe they needed me—that she needed me—and I wasn’t there.
Pulling up Luke’s name and number, I hit ‘talk’ and he answers on the first ring. “Took you long enough,” he growls.
/> “Cut the shit, Luke. What’s going on?”