Need Someone | [Complete]

Chapter 18: If He Makes It

I had cried until I felt I couldn't cry anymore. I forced myself to get up and try to do something to get me through the next six to eight hours, but it was difficult to be fully present for anything.

I felt like a ghost, floating through a series of practiced motions and rehearsed responses. All I could think about was him and whether or not he was making it through.

"Are you okay?" Denise asked me.

I looked over to find her and Tiffany staring at me with looks of concern. My eyes clouded with tears. "I don't know."

They pulled me to the side, and for the first time ever, hugged me. I stood there between them, the emotional and physical warmth of their embrace set me over the edge. I started crying again.

"We know you care about him," Tiffany said when they let me go. "And we know he's crazy about you. You're his support system. You can't do anything to support him right now other than be ready to help him when he wakes up."

Denise grinned. "It's scary, but you have to believe he is going to make it through. There's no way someone with that much . . . gusto wouldn't."

I chuckled and wiped my cheeks. "Thank you. Both of you."

Theresa walked up. I stared at her, waiting for a scolding. "He is going to make it," she said in her frank way. "Sitting there crying isn't going to help anyone. Help me with this blood draw."

I sniffled and straightened up. "Yes, ma'am."

Even after I dedicated myself to only checking the time every few minutes rather than every few seconds, the time crept by. I hadn't eaten anything, hadn't sat down since I came up here. The time dragged by. Two hours passed, then four, then six. Before I knew it, my shift was over, but I worked late to stay busy.

An hour after that, I still had no news, but I knew I would not leave until I heard something. My phone rang just before I lost all hope.

I ran down the hall, then stairs, and down to the ICU. I searched for the rooms until I found him. He laid in the bed, unconscious and intubated. He looked still. Pale. Absent. But my mind wouldn't accept that observation.

Dr. Mathews stepped into view, taking notes in his chart

When I walked into the room, he stopped me with a hand. I stilled. "When you are in here, you are family, not his nurse," he said.

I stared at him for a moment then took off my badge and tucked it into my pocket. He welcomed me in. "How is he?" I asked.

"He did well in the surgery, but the tumor was trickier than we expected. The surgery's toll on his body will be significant." I checked his stats on the monitors. The tears welled in my eyes. "If he can make it through the night, he stands a fighting chance. If he makes it through the night," he reminded me. "As you know, the next twenty-four hours—"