Nightwolf

Wolf squeezes my hand tighter.

“It’s okay,” I hear him whisper, but it’s so quiet that I’m not sure if he’s telling me that or himself.

“The biggest thing,” the doctor goes on, “is that we want to take her off the ventilator as soon as it’s possible. The longer she’s on it, the more damage it will do to her.”

And for some reason, I don’t take that as a bad thing. It will damage her vocal chords, make it harder to breathe without it? Sure, but she’ll be alive. She has to be alive to be damaged, right?

“But we can’t take her off the ventilator until she gains consciousness,” she adds. “She’s not there yet.”

“But she’s holding my hand. She’s frowning, she’s trying,” I tell her.

“The process is slow.”

“But it’s heading in the right direction.” I look to Lily for help, surely she’s seen the improvement. But Lily just looks at the doctor.

“It is,” the doctor says. “And that’s hopeful.”

Hopeful! She said it was hopeful. I’m flooded with relief, so desperate for anything.

“But the progress is not consistent. We would like to see it more consistently before we attempt to take her off.”

“So she just needs some time,” Wolf says, and I’m so happy he’s spoken up, telling them what we’re both feeling. “She needs time to heal. You can’t expect her to get hit by a car and be jumping out of a coma right away.”

“Yeah,” I add for emphasis. “She needs time, that’s all.”

“We don’t have a lot of time with the vent,” the doctor says. She pauses and eyes the neurologist. “And…”

The neurologist clears his throat. “Her brain scans show substantial damage.”

Wolf tenses up beside me.

My soul immediately leaves my body.

I blink. “Substantial?”

The neurologist nods slowly. “The chances of her making a full recovery, of being the mother that you remember, are slim.”

I refuse to take in the enormity of what he’s saying.

“Slim, but not impossible,” I point out.

“No,” he says reluctantly. “Not impossible. At this point, anything is possible.”

“So, until it’s impossible, then I just want you all to keep believing in her. She just needs time. She’ll come around. You can’t even tell the damage to the brain until she wakes up, right? You don’t know what’s affected and how bad? Maybe she’ll be more forgetful, maybe she won’t be able to walk properly, maybe she’ll laugh at inappropriate times. Either way, we’re going to take care of her. We’ll take her home and take care of her.”

“She might need a lot of care,” the doctor says gently.

“It doesn’t matter,” Wolf says in his deep voice. “We’re taking care of Yvonne. As long as she’s able to feel happiness, and feels no pain, and can have a meaningful life still, we’ll take care of her. Whatever version of her we get, we’ll take care of her and love her just the same.”

I’m close to bursting into tears, staring at Wolf in awe. Not just over my mom, over this news, but over Wolf stepping up like this. Caring for my mom as much as he does. Loving her like he does.

God, I love you, I think.

The words freeze in my heart, making me pause.

But then I hold them tight because they’re true.

I love you, Wolf.

I fucking love you.

“Okay,” the neurologist says, and I tear my eyes from Wolf to look at him and the rest of the doctors. He proceeds to say something else but I’m not really listening. All I can think is that no matter what happens, Wolf and I will take care of my mom and love her, and I will love him too and we’re going to be okay.

Eventually the doctors and Lily leave, going to deliver some sort of bad news to someone else.

“Amethyst,” Wolf says to me, and my name sounds so foreign. I slowly look at him and he helps me to my feet. “You need to come with me.”

I give my head a weak shake. “I need to stay here with her.”

“Didn’t you hear what the doctor said? Your mom is too tired from the tests to give much more. She’s stable. She’s going to be fine overnight, you just need to go home for once and rest.”

“I’d feel so bad.”

“Nothing is going to happen to her,” he assures me, putting his hand at the back of my neck. “You need to take care of yourself. Let me take care of you, baby.”

He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes searching my eyes, hopeful and wild. “Please,” he adds.

That’s what it takes. That simple, honest, please.

I nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay. Take me home.”

I push the guilt away as he grabs my bag and leads me out of the room.

“You’re home!” Lenore says with a big smile, greeting us at the front door with a bottle of wine and two empty glasses.