“And you’re not my boyfriend,” she mumbles into my shirt.
It’s only a matter of time, sweet-thing.
Only a matter of time.
The sound of our suitcases rolling along the floor as we walked down the eerily quiet corridor toward the ICU echo around us.
The nurse pauses when we reach her father’s room, turning to face us. “He’s just in there,” she says, and Emma nods. “The doctor has him on strong pain medication, so don’t be alarmed if he doesn’t wake up. The rest will only aid his recovery.”
Our fingers are entwined, and she’s clinging to me like a lifeline, the fear etched on her beautiful face. I’d planned on waiting out here, so she could have privacy with her dad, but now I’m not so sure.
“I’m here. I’ll be right by your side if that’s what you need.”
“Thank you,” she says, squeezing my hand briefly before letting go. “But, this is something I need to do on my own.”
My little warrior.
Stronger than she thinks and way braver than I give her credit for.
Emma takes a tentative step forward, reaching for the door handle. I hear her intake a sharp breath, and her shoulders straighten before she disappears inside.
Reaching for her suitcase, I move toward the seats lining the wall beside the nurses’ station. The large glass window into his room is now in view. Her father lays unmoving in the bed, hooked up to numerous machines. Emma’s standing a few feet away from his bed, but her anguish is tangible. My heart constricts. It’s a look very similar to the one she gave me the morning I asked her to leave.
A look that will forever haunt me.
Emma takes a step closer, followed by another. My chest aches as I watch her staring down at him. She leans over raining kisses on his face. When she draws back, I see her mouth moving as she swipes her finger under her eye, but I’m unsure of what she says—words of love and encouragement, no doubt.
Eventually, she takes a seat beside his bed and reaches for his hand, bringing it up to her face. Her eyes are clenched shut as her cheek rests against it. She stays like that, unmoving, for the longest time.
I want to go to her. I want to bundle her in my arms and kiss all her cares away. To tell her I’m sorry for everything I did, for everything I said. That I’m an idiot, and I need her.
I can’t breathe without her.
I hate that she’s hurting, and even more so that I hurt her too. I want to confess my fears, the reasons for doing what I did, so I can help her understand. And when I’m done, beg her for forgiveness. Beg her for a second chance. A chance for me to show her how much she means to me.
I want it all.
But, I’m terrified my all still won’t be enough.
“Hey.”
I stir awake to the sound of her sweet voice. Scrubbing my hand over my face, I crick my neck from side to side. These chairs are so uncomfortable. I feel stiff all over.
“Sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“You were snoring so loud I’m surprised the nurses didn’t have security remove you.” When I see a playful grin tug at her lips, I chuckle. “Here,” she says, handing me a cup of coffee. “I thought you might want this. Black, no sugar… the way you like it. The cafeteria was closed. Otherwise I would’ve grabbed you a sandwich or something.”
“This is good, thanks.” I smile when she takes a seat beside me. “How’s your dad?”
She looks tired. Deflated. “Still out of it. He did wake briefly, though. I got to tell him how much I love him… I’m grateful for that.” She gives her love so freely—even to me—and I just threw it away like it meant nothing.
Emma’s throat clears as her gaze moves to the floor. She’s trying hard to hold it together, I know her better than she thinks. She’s like a river amidst a flood, and it’s only a matter of time before the dam bursts.
I reach out, placing my hand on her knee. “How are you doing?”
“Okay, I guess. Thanks for asking.” I gently squeeze her leg before letting go, observing her as I take a sip of my coffee. “Don’t feel obligated to stay, I’ll be all right.”
“I want to be here… with you,” I say. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. “I’m not letting you go through this on your own.”
“But—”
I place my finger against her lips as my head dips slightly, so we’re eye level. “This isn’t up for negotiation. You’re here to care for your dad, and I’m here to care for you. I’m in it for the long-haul, Em.”
There’s a deeper meaning behind my words.
I’m not just referring to here in Utah.
I’m not giving her up again.
She’s mine for keeps. That’s if she still wants me.
Gazing at my watch, it reads almost midnight.
“Why don’t we go get a hotel room? We can grab a shower, some food, and a few hours’ sleep. It will do you a world of good.”
Emma stares at her father through the window across from us. “I don’t want to leave him.”
“Understandable, but you need to keep up your strength… for him. You heard the nurse… your dad’s going to be out of it for a while.”
Her brow furrows as she internally battles with the conflict of leaving. My eyes scan over her, she’s thin, even her face is gaunt. The last few weeks have taken their toll.
“Why don’t you go?” she eventually says. “You can come back tomorrow if you want.”
I bring my hand up, brushing her hair back from her face. “I’m not leaving without you, Em.”
Chapter Thirty-One
ASHTON
It’s half past one in the morning when the cab pulls up outside her father’s home. Emma fell asleep on my shoulder within minutes of leaving the hospital. She’s exhausted. After getting an update from the nurse, who only confirmed what I’d already told her, she relented. But instead of a hotel, she wanted to come back here.
It’s a forty-five-minute drive from Salt Lake City, but the hospital promised to call if there was any change in his condition. Tomorrow, I’ll look into renting a car for the duration of our stay, however long that may be. I meant what I said, I’m not leaving Utah without her.
Pulling out my wallet, I pay the driver before giving Emma a gentle shake. “Em, we’re here,” I say.
“Huh.” She lifts her head in a daze, then wipes the back of her hand over her mouth, and I chuckle when I look down and see a small wet patch on my shirt from where she dribbled in her sleep.
The driver gets out to retrieve our bags from the trunk. The car’s headlights are shining on the front of the house, so while Emma takes a moment to get her bearings, I gaze over the property. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I remember her saying her father built it himself. Yes, it’s modest in size compared to my parents’ estate, but it’s definitely not a shack. It has a rustic log cabin feel with the exterior made up of stone and large wooden beams with a wraparound porch and two dormers set into the roof.
It’s unpretentious and homey—very Emma.
I’m eager to see it in the light of day. I’m impressed her dad built this. My father doesn’t even know how to operate a drill.