Pushing herself to a sitting position, she found Andrew sprawled out facedown on top of his bed with his pants around his knees. She bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing out loud. She hadn’t heard him come in last night (amazing sex completely tired a girl out), and apparently he’d had such a good time that he couldn’t be bothered to undress all the way.
This had “blackmail photo” written all over it. Not that she’d ever do something like that, but it would be fun to tease him with it when necessary. She looked at the nightstand for her phone so she could take a picture before remembering she’d left it inside her purse.
Even though Andrew slept like the dead, she tiptoed across the room to retrieve her bag off the couch. Pulling the phone out as quietly as possible, she snapped shots of him from every angle before leaping back into bed like nothing had happened and checking her phone for missed calls or texts.
There were three more calls from Hugo and Maria. Two voice messages. Shit. A heavy weight landed on her chest. She quickly listened to Maria’s frantic voice.
“Kennedy, it’s Maria. Hugo is in the hospital,” she sobbed. “He fainted while swimming and almost drowned. Please call me back.”
Second message: “We don’t know if he’s going to make it,” she wept. “Please come if you can. We need you.”
A loud, inarticulate scream tore from the back of Kennedy’s throat as she jumped to her feet. Not Hugo. Please, God, not Hugo.
Andrew shot up off the bed and almost tripped over himself. “What’s wrong?” he called out, catching his balance.
She could barely speak through her tears, but somehow he understood what she told him about Hugo. “I ha…I have to go,” she muttered.
“Of course you do,” he said, his calm voice helping to settle her down. She forced herself into doctor mode: composed, analytical, helpful. Hysterics did her no good.
“Driving will take too long. I need to fly,” she said.
“You pack and I’ll find out where the closest airport is and get you a ticket.” Andrew’s fingers flew across his phone.
“Thank you.”
Five minutes later, packed, dressed, and ready to speak without losing it, she called Maria back. The doctors hadn’t given Maria a prognosis, but Hugo’s brain had been deprived of oxygen for several minutes. Kennedy told Maria to tell Hugo she was on her way and that she expected a magic trick when she got there.
Her hands shook as she put the phone down. She’d lost patients before—it came with the job. But Hugo had seamlessly moved from patient to friend to family, and she’d never lost someone so special before.
The soonest flight was in two hours, which left time for her to find Maverick and say goodbye. The inn and grounds were a hustle and bustle of wedding activity, and because of that, Kennedy stayed silent. She’d momentarily forgotten what day it was, and out of respect for Reed and Elle, their family and friends, and the Owens family, she kept her distance. She didn’t need to bring anyone down with the reason for her sudden departure.
After searching for Maverick around the inn and at the barn, she asked Andrew to drive by his cabin on their way to the airport. He didn’t answer the front door when she knocked, so she tried the handle. Finding it unlocked, she let herself inside.
“Maverick?” she called out.
No answer. No sound at all.
She said a silent goodbye to a sleeping Barley and her puppies. Tears pricked the back of her eyes as she wandered into the kitchen to leave Maverick a note. There would be no hug or kiss or keep in touch. The end had come, and she stood there alone.
On the kitchen counter sat a stack of loose paper. She found a pen, and upon closer look at the papers, discovered they were letters. Not just any letters. Letters to Nicole. Written by hand and signed by Maverick. She would have ignored them, had she not caught a glimpse of her own name.
There was no date, but the letter had obviously been written sometime this week.
Hated each other on the spot… She’s the reason I fell in love with you… I hate that she’s here… If only she’d arrived two weeks from now…
Kennedy briefly glanced at the letters underneath. Maverick’s sweet, tender words brought tears to her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand as she reread his most recent letter.
The one where he’d wanted her gone.
Heartbreak replaced sympathy. His words killed her. Filled her with grief and doubt and an uninvited stab in the middle of her chest. Had she completely misread him? Was she a game to him? Was spending time with her some sick way of dealing with his loss?
She pressed her fingers against her sternum to stave off the sharp pain and let out a breath. Her legs, already unsteady because of concern for Hugo, shook even more. Leaning against the counter for support, she sobbed.
Then blinking repeatedly, she turned the letter over to write her own.
Dear Maverick,
No worries. You never have to see me again.
Respectfully,
Kennedy
Her heart and head devastated by his thoughtlessness, she didn’t have it in her to say anything more.
…
Hours later and sick to her stomach with worry, Kennedy raced into the hospital to see Hugo. She knew the space like the back of her hand and rushed to the pediatric ICU, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to avoid the line of people waiting for it and to work off the extra tension thrumming through her veins.
With each step, a sense of comfort edged out her anxiety. The hospital was her safe place—she knew exactly how to be, how to help, how to trust in the competency of the staff. She breathed in the antiseptic scent and felt at ease. She took in the white walls and shiny flooring and light wood accents and tried to de-stress.
The second floor PICU was laid out so the highly trained staff could always have an eye on their patients, and Kennedy took just a second outside Hugo’s room to observe him and Maria while she caught her breath and gathered her strength.
Maria turned her head and met Kennedy’s eyes through the window. The unmistakable relief that washed across Maria’s face made Kennedy glad she’d rushed to get here to be bedside. She’d made it in time to offer support to her dear friend and whisper in Hugo’s ear that he better fight with everything he had.
“Kennedy,” Maria said, wrapping her arms around Kennedy in a motherly embrace. “Thank you so much for coming.”
Kennedy had never hugged anyone tighter. “There’s no place else I’d rather be.”
They broke apart, and Kennedy excused herself to talk to Hugo’s nurse for an update. Brain hypoxia—oxygen deficiency to the brain—could be mild or severe. Brain cells began to die after just five minutes of oxygen loss, and Kennedy prayed emergency medical personnel had gotten to Hugo before then.