That one touch breaks her control. It’s faint, but I hear the sound of pleasure that escapes Rose’s lips, a gasping sigh that tells me she wants me just as badly as I want her right now.
“I fucking knew it,” I groan. “Hate me all you want, but your body doesn’t lie.”
“You… god, you…”
She shakes her head, her nostrils flaring, but at the same time, she arches her back, pressing her breast into my hand.
I dig my fingers into the soft flesh, wrapping my other arm around her to pull her closer to me.
And then my phone rings.
Everything stops.
The tension that’s wound tight around us snaps like a rubber band, and I take a half step back as I tug my cell from my pocket, still standing in front of Rose, still half-consumed by visions of what I want to do to her.
Whoever the hell interrupted me better have something important to say.
“This is Aiden,” I bite out curtly as I answer.
There’s a shuffle on the other end of the line. “Mr. O’Reilly, it’s Dr. Andrews.”
Ice floods my body. The world grinds to a halt, and I can feel myself shut off inside.
“What is it?” I demand.
“I just called to notify you that your mother had a small drop in her vitals. She’s been stable since her cardiac arrest, and this came out of nowhere. We’re keeping an eye on her, but I thought you should know.”
I swallow and glance at Rose, realizing she’s watching me closely. Her chest is heaving. The front of her dress is out of place, the swell of her breast partly exposed, and her skin is flushed.
“I’ll be right there.”
I drag my gaze away from Rose as I hang up, not saying a word as I turn and head for the door to the garage.
The drive to the hospital takes place on autopilot. I barely pay attention to where I’m going, but I have the route memorized by now. I park quickly and go inside, navigating the maze of floors and elevators without even looking.
I’ve always hated the way these places smell. It stings my nose and brings me right back to that week from hell where everything crumbled around me for the second time.
Dr. Andrews is waiting outside my mother’s room. He has a clipboard in hand, preoccupied as I arrive. He looks up just in time to see me.
“Mr. O’Reilly. Everything seems fine now,” he begins, probably noticing how anxious I am. “The drop was concerning, though. We’ll be monitoring her closely for the next forty-eight hours.”
I nod sharply. “All right.”
“We haven’t really seen a change aside from this,” Dr. Andrews adds quietly. “Nothing positive, at least.”
I know what he’s getting at. There’s no hopeful prediction for my mother recovering, ever. There’s little chance things will improve.
Most likely, she’ll never wake up again.
“Thank you for doing what you can,” I finally say, my voice hard. Then I walk past the doctor and into my mother’s room. It’s quiet aside from the soft beeps of the machines. I pull up a chair and sit by her bed.
My brothers and I have never agreed to pull the plug. That’s a stupid phrase anyway. There is no one plug, no real easy end. But it doesn’t matter what you call it. We’ve been unable to do it.
The thought breaks me every time it comes up.
I’m not ready. Besides me, Finn took this the hardest. I think if we do it, it’ll fucking wreck him. We might lose him for good to his addiction. Or worse.
My mother lies still and quiet on the bed, looking almost more like a ghost than the vivacious woman I once knew. I’m not sure if she can hear me or if she ever will again, so maybe it’s just for my sake, but I can’t do nothing.
