With Every Breath (Slow Burn 4)

But he feared the appearance of hospital personnel even as he waited, on edge, for someone to come. Because if they told him the worst, his heart and soul would die in that moment.

Exhaustion and worry had taken its toll on him, and he finally sank into a chair, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands. He had to hold it together. If he broke, if he let even the first wave of emotion get the better of him, he’d never stop. And so he held rigid in his vigil, mind numb, sorrow wrapped solidly around his battered heart and soul.

Still more hours passed and with it the threads holding Wade’s sanity together grew thinner. No one had moved. No one had eaten or even gotten up to go to the bathroom. No one stood down for a single moment.

Close to noon, a haggard looking man in scrubs appeared in the doorway, exhaustion pronounced in his eyes. When he called for those here for Eliza Cummings, Wade surged to his feet, as did every single other occupant of the room.

Wade was there first, pushing by the others so he stood squarely in front of the surgeon.

“Tell me,” Wade muttered fiercely.

“She made it through surgery,” the doctor said, though there was no real joy or relief in his statement. “I have no idea how the hell she made it. When they brought her in, I gave her less than a five percent chance of surviving the first hour. But she hung on, refusing to give up.”

“Can I see her?” Wade asked hoarsely, afraid to feel hope.

“She isn’t out of the woods yet,” the doctor said grimly. “I don’t want to give you false hope. She could still die. Her condition is critical and she’s on life support. As soon as she’s out of recovery, she’ll be moved to ICU. You can see her then. We’ll just have to take it day by day, but for now, she’s alive.”

No. Surely he wouldn’t be given such hope only to have it snatched from him in the cruelest way possible. His heart pounded and he felt light-headed as relief poured over him. He hadn’t lost her yet. She’d made it through surgery. No way she’d go down after surviving the worst. All she had to do now was recover. Get better. And he’d ensure she did exactly that. He wouldn’t leave her side.

“I’ll have someone come get you when she’s been moved to ICU,” the doctor said before taking his leave.

Wade took several steps back and then numbly sank into one of the chairs, his hands shaking. He closed his eyes and swallowed visibly, knowing that when he did see Eliza, it wouldn’t be good. But he had to be as strong for her as she’d been for him.

TWENTY-EIGHT

FOR four of the longest days of Wade’s life, he kept vigil in the ICU, never leaving Eliza’s bedside. The nurses had tried to make him leave, citing strict visitor hours. Wade had dug in and told them over his fucking dead body would he leave her. There had been a tense standoff until the charge nurse had intervened, taken one long, hard look at Wade and then had told the other nurses to let him stay.

Maybe she’d seen just how close he was to losing it. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he was with her, holding her hand, talking to her. He slept for short intervals, awakening to once more encourage her, bully her, demand that she wake up.

Her team came in, one at a time, at regular intervals. The nurses had already allowed one breach of the rules. Allowing more than two people in Eliza’s room at the same time was where they put their foot down solidly. Wade hadn’t cared about that either. As long as he was with her, he didn’t care who else got to see her.

On the fifth day, Wade had dozed off, leaned over the rail of her bed, his fingers wrapped around hers when he was awakened by a small movement. His eyes snapped open and he glanced down, unable to determine whether he’d dreamed it or if she had really moved her hand.

And then she moved again. Just one tiny clench of her fingers around his. Almost as if to let him know she was there, with him, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Excitedly he leaned forward, talking urgently to her, telling her he was here, that she was okay and he begged her to open her eyes. He begged for half an hour when, finally, he saw it. The slightest movement of her eyelids as if she were straining to open her eyes.

Suddenly remembering the tube down her throat and the fact that if she came around, she’d likely panic, he quickly pushed the button for the nurse with his free hand, all the while continuing his steady encouragement for Eliza to open her eyes.

The nurse came in, looking sharply at Wade.

“She’s coming around,” he said hoarsely. “She’s been moving her hand for the last half hour and I just saw her eyelids twitch. She’s coming out of it.”

The nurse sprang into action and soon the room was filled with other medical personnel as they prepared to extubate her. An ICU doctor stood by, prepared to re-intubate her if she was unable to breathe on her own. Through it all, Wade continued to remain at her side, holding tightly to her hand, and no one argued with him as they worked around him.

He found himself holding his breath when the tube had been removed from Eliza’s throat and held it through the tense seconds following as they waited to see if she would breathe on her own.

Her vitals were checked every minute and then finally, the most beautiful words he’d ever heard came from the doctor.

“Her vitals are good and improving. She should wake soon.”

Wade’s knees buckled and nearly gave out. He gripped the railing with his free hand and stood there shaking, tears swimming in his eyes. Then he leaned over to kiss her forehead and whispered against her skin.

“Come back to me, baby. You’re going to be just fine. Open your eyes and look at me. Let me know you’re all right.”

Again he saw her eyelids twitch and her eyes moving beneath the closed lids and he caught his breath when he saw the first tiny glimpse of the whites of her eyes.

“That’s it,” he said urgently. “You can do this, Eliza. Wake up, baby. Wake up so I can tell you how much I love you and that I’m going to spend the rest of my life taking care of you.”

Her eyelids fluttered and then blinked, her gaze slowly tracking upward to his face. Then they remained open as she stared at him with recognition and awareness.

“Hi,” she whispered hoarsely, nearly inaudible.

It was too much for him to bear any longer. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he pressed his forehead to hers, holding on to her hand while she held on to his.