Part 25 (1/2)

The door squeaked open again, the head of Dr. Abel popping through the opening. I tensed, every muscle in my body going to attention at his appearance.

”Ian,” he said, ”do you have a minute?”

I nodded. I had plenty of minutes. Too many of them really.

The door closed behind him with a soft click, and he readjusted his gla.s.ses as he pulled over a chair on the opposite side of the bed. ”This may be a conversation you'd like to have in private,” he said, with a meaningful glance in Ben's direction.

Ben went to stand, but I put a hand on his shoulder. ”If it's alright, I'd like him to stay.”

”Of course, of course,” he mumbled, shuffling through the paperwork in his hands. His eyes lifted until they found mine. ”I'm afraid the news isn't good, Ian. Maggie's injuries were very extensive, and although we were able to stabilize her condition, she's continued to decline. Her kidney function isn't improving; her organs are starting to fail. We're not able to remove her from the ventilator.”

When he stopped speaking, the only sounds in the room were Maggie's machines-the beep of her heart on the monitor, the mechanical breath of the ventilator. I knew what he was trying to say, but I had to hear him say it. Had to hear the words to really believe them. ”What are you saying?”

Dr. Abel plucked his gla.s.ses from his nose so he could rub a hand across his face. ”Your wife is dying, Ian. Her organs are shutting down. And these machines”-he waved a hand around the room-”they'll prolong it for a time. But leaving her this way will drag out her suffering.”

”She's in pain?” I choked the words out, even though it felt like each word was flecked with gla.s.s shards.

”We're doing everything we can to keep her comfortable. But you have to understand, regardless of what we do, she'll never be able to breathe on her own. She won't be able to swallow.” He stopped to take a breath. ”The decision is yours, but I'm recommending that you withdraw life support.”

”When . . . when do I need to let you know?” My voice shook, and I pinched my fingers tighter around Maggie's wrist. The ever present badum-badum of her heart beating out against my skin. Every pulse screamed out against Dr. Abel. Every beat shouted, ”I'm alive!”

”Take your time. Think it over. I'll come by to see you tomorrow.” Tucking the clipboard underneath his arm, he stood. ”I'm very sorry.”

After he left, Ben turned to me. His fingers twisted in the fabric of the blanket. ”We can get a second opinion.”

”Yeah.” That one word cost me, but it fought its way to the surface.

My eyes searched over her, drinking her in, looking for something, anything, that would refute Dr. Abel's claims. I dropped my gaze down to my hand on her arm. Twisting my wrist just slightly, the edge of a hummingbird's wing peeked into view. Tiny, delicate, exquisitely detailed. I'd planned it for months, worked on it endlessly until it was absolutely perfect. I'd promised her the next one would be for her, swore it. But she'd never get to see it. I'd never get to find out if she remembered that little doodle on the side of her sneaker from the first day we met.

I let my fingers slide down the underside of her wrist, folding her hand into mine. Giving it a squeeze, I felt the hard edges of her bones dig into the palm of my hand. Give me something, Maggie. If you can hear me, or feel me, if you're still there, just give me a sign. A twitch, a blink, a squeeze. Anything. Anything and I'll wait for you. As long as it takes.

I stared at her until my eyes blurred from my refusal to blink, terrified that I'd miss the tiny signal that would tell me Maggie was still with me. Her eyelids didn't flutter, her fingers didn't flex. Nothing happened. Not a single f.u.c.king thing.

I felt it then-hope draining from my bones, the inevitability that the life I'd spent wrapped up in Maggie's love was gone and I'd never get it back. I might've just prayed to the universe to give me a sign, but I wasn't stupid. I knew that finding someone once in this lifetime who I could love with everything I had, who loved me back just as fiercely, was rare. The road ahead of me was bleak and barren. And that's what I'd be-alone. Because I knew that I'd never love someone again like I did Maggie. It wasn't possible.

The day dawned clear and bright, the wind gusting over mounds of powdered snow so that it whirled in the air, like tiny flake-encrusted tornadoes. The weather, it seemed, didn't care that I was dying inside, and that on the day I lost Maggie it should be dark and storming. As bleak outside as I felt inside. The sun glared adamantly down through the hospital window, streaking the white expanse of snow until it looked like it was covered in piles of glitter.

The room was crowded. Too full-of pain, of tears, of everything. There were too many emotions clouding the air, more than I'd be able to name given a dictionary and an entire lifetime to search it.

I couldn't sit. So I stood, at the side of the bed, my hand tucked neatly into hers. A small slash of ink stained the tip of my middle finger. Ink from the pen Dr. Abel gave me. The pen I used to sign the forms that gave them permission to turn off the machines. Each swipe of the pen stole a little sliver of my soul. Every swirl felt like a wicked paper cut, until everything was stinging and aching.

Maggie's parents stood somewhere off to my right. Her mom's eyes locked onto mine, still pleading with me. I couldn't hold her gaze and immediately wrenched it away. They'd argued with me, begged me not to do it, but I couldn't leave her like this. I couldn't leave her to die in slow motion. Losing her would be the worst pain I ever felt, but I'd gladly welcome it rather than let her suffer a minute more.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her father lay one broad hand across Maggie's forehead, his other arm tucked tightly around his wife. They pulled closer and closer together, like they could somehow s.h.i.+eld themselves from what was to come by hiding inside each other. To the left, with hands holding tight to the footboard of the bed, were Rachel and Ben, Gavin and Felix standing behind them. Each of them kept to themselves, curling into their own little ball of grief.

Dr. Abel s.h.i.+fted across from me, drawing my attention to him. ”Are you ready?”

Ready? How could anyone ever be ready for this?

I managed a nod. The muscles in my throat worked as I tried to swallow, but it felt like something was caught there. It wasn't my heart. That was already lying on the bed next to Maggie, dying right along with her.

Dr. Abel reached up to the machines, turning them off one by one. With gentle hands, he peeled back the tape that stretched out from her mouth, slowly removing the tube from her throat. The heart monitor was the last machine left on. The thin white line kept spiking, but it slowed as the seconds pa.s.sed, the deafening beep sounding out less and less. I held my breath between beats, begging for just one more, until the pauses drew out too long and I had to breathe without her.

I didn't notice the first tear. Or the second. Or the twelfth. They ran down my cheeks and dripped off my chin, soaking into the blanket or splattering onto our joined hands. Each one drained a little bit of life out of me, dragging me down into a pit where the stubborn rays of the sun couldn't bother me.

When her heart rate flatlined, Dr. Abel reached up to switch off the machine, killing the sound in the room. We were left with sniffles and sobs, whimpers and not-so-silent tears.

Dr. Abel whispered time of death to the nurse standing at his side, and then left us with an, ”I'll give you some time.”

His exit was a cue, and one by one they left. Rachel with a soft pat on Maggie's arm, the guys with a brief touch to her blanket-covered legs and feet. Maggie's mom trailed a finger across her cheek and then came toward me, just two steps.

With a quick, decisive movement, she drew back her hand and slapped me across the face. I felt every single one of her fingers touch my skin, burning, and no doubt leaving a red print behind. Her eyes welled with tears, her voice jagged and rasping. ”You never deserved her. And this?” Her nostrils flared. ”This is all your fault.”

Arms snaked around her from behind, squeezing her tightly, locking her hands to her sides. Maggie's dad walked her toward the door, never saying one word to me. Never even lifting his eyes to meet mine. I was too shocked to say anything, too stunned to move.

If I'd been able to, I would have told her, ”I know.”

Chapter 35: Bianca.

Google mocked me. The blank white screen stared up at me, the cursor with its endless blink-blink-blink. So far, the most I'd managed to type had been ”Ia” before promptly deleting it. I wasn't ready to break another one of my rules for Ian. I'd already broken too many, and look where it'd gotten me.

I'd been back in Texas for almost a week and everything was all wrong. The house was the same, my bedroom forever unchanging with its lavender walls and stark white trim. Everything was familiar, but not comfortable. Identical, yet different. It'd taken me awhile to realize that it wasn't anything else that was the problem, it was me.

I didn't fit anymore.

Pus.h.i.+ng a hand through my hair, I flopped down onto the bed, and the clean scent of laundry detergent wafted up to greet me. The experience of stepping back into my old life was almost surreal. Here, I was sleeping in the same bed, walking the same halls. I remembered the girl who used to do those things. The one who knew the fourth step down squeaked if you stepped on the right side, and that the light switch in the living room wasn't actually connected to anything. I was still her, but I wasn't. It was like I was trying to fit into clothes that were a half-size too small-it almost worked, but not quite.

I reached out a hand, my fingers fumbling over the comforter until they connected with my phone. Holding it up in front of my face, I swiped through the screens until the phone was dialing.

”Well, it's about d.a.m.n time,” Harper snapped. ”Do you know how annoying it's been trying to give you s.p.a.ce? To be clear, you had about another day or two before I broke radio silence myself.”

”I did text you.”

”Right. 'Made it home safely. Will call soon.' Thanks for that.”

I took a deep breath. ”I need a favor.”

”Does it involve me booking you a flight back to New York?” On her end, I heard a fingernail tapping against something hard, a table maybe.

I picked at the edge of my pillowcase with a fingernail. ”I want you to look up Ian for me.”

”Don't you have the internet in Texas?”

”I just . . . can't.”

”Seriously?”