Walker clapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll update everyone else.”
“Okay.”
I could only manage these one-word answers because my brain was spiraling. Anna’s heart stopping. Coma. Ventilator.
I followed the doctor down the hall to an elevator. “What are her chances?”
The doors opened, and we stepped inside. “Her chances for survival are good. Her brain function is in the normal range. But you need to be prepared. We have no way of knowing what damage has been done until Ms. Foley wakes up.”
“Damage?” I rasped.
“She could have neurological impairments after this. Symptoms similar to a stroke. Or the reaction could be milder. Insomnia, short-term amnesia.”
Endless possibilities circled in my mind as the doctor led me down another hall. We stopped at a hand sanitizer pump outside a set of double doors. Dr. Martín sprayed some into his hands, and I did the same. As he opened one of the doors, a cacophony of beeping sounds filled the air, punctuated by what almost sounded like gasps.
A number of rooms surrounded what appeared to be a nurses’ station. Martín gestured to it. “Your wife will have ‘round-the-clock monitoring.”
I should’ve been relieved by the knowledge, but it made me sick. She needed that monitoring because I’d left her. Let her down in the worst way imaginable.
“She’s right in here. Don’t be put off by the machines, she’s doing really well, all things considered.”
“Thank you.” I stepped through the open door, and all air left my lungs. Anna. She looked impossibly small in the bed. So many wires and tubes. Ones connected to electrodes on her head. Ones dipping beneath her hospital gown. To her mouth. Her arm. One hand had a splint.
Everything burned. My eyes. My chest. But I pushed forward. One step, and then another. I lowered myself into the chair beside her bed. The hand resting on top of the covers had only an oxygen monitor clamped to her finger.
I lifted it, holding it between both of my hands, then pressed it to my lips. “Anna. I’m so sorry.”
Those words weren’t even close to being enough. But I didn’t know what would be. Tears filled my eyes, spilling over and landing on our joined hands. “I love you. Please don’t leave me.”
45
Anna
The persistent ticklein my throat woke me. A scratch that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much I swallowed. That was when the pain hit. The thrumming through my skull and the ache in my muscles.
What the hell happened?
I tried to open my eyes, but they didn’t seem to want to cooperate. The lids themselves were too heavy. I tried again, straining. This time, they fluttered.
The light in the room was low but still felt too bright. Each blink cemented a picture in my mind. Curtains. White walls. Machines. Mason.
His head lay on my bed, his face turned towards me. He looked…haggard. Scruff even longer than usual and dark circles under his eyes.
I reached out, running my fingers through his hair. Mason let out a little moan. Then his eyes popped open, and he jerked upright. “Anna?”
“Hi.” The greeting came out as a croak.
“Are you okay? How do you feel? How long have you been awake?”
“What happened?” As I asked the question, things came back to me in flashes. Our fight. Waking up in the hatchback. Derek. My breaths started coming faster, panic closing in.
Mason moved in, taking my hand in his. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”
“Derek?” I whispered.
“He’s in jail.”
A nurse bustled in. “I thought there was a little spike in the heart monitor activity. Welcome back, Ms. Foley. Your young man has been quite worried about you.”
