Reject You to Break You (To Reach You Book 2)

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Pussy Coma

Tate-

"Is he--" I swallow.

"No," Cayne snaps at the time Jack says it. There's something so incredibly off about him, something besides Ridge.

"He's alive, but he--he might not fucking wake up, or he'll wake up, paralyzed, from waist to down," Dylan grits out, knuckles turning white.

Ridge might wake up. But if he would, it would be paralyzed. "Please...just don't mention this to North," I murmur to Cayne, who nods sharply. "She's inside...with him,"

I glance through the room window and freeze.

Never have I seen her like this. Her body is convulsing with repeated sobs, eyes bloodshot with tears, she looks...destroyed. She looks...begging. Begging for a miracle. Begging for any god out there to bring him back to life for her.

Maybe it'll happen...but not all of him will come back.

Waist down...gone.

I reach for the knob, meaning to go in and comfort her, but Jack puts his hand over mine, shaking his head, eyes clenched to hide emotion. He knows that with Lila the way she is, now is not the time to break down.

"You can't help now, baby, stay here,"

The worst part is...I know he's right.

No one gets under North's skin like Ridge. Only he could fix her now.

***

North-

The hospital was supposedly closed. Everyone was gone. My tears had dried off.

Now I was...

What was I exactly? By this point, I didn't know...and I didn't care.

His hand was swallowing mine up as I clutched it, hoping for some kind of life, a snide comment, a rude innuendo, a smirk, the smile that made my whole body light up. Anything that made Ridge Monroe, Ridge Monroe.

The jerk, the asshole, the secret nerd, the loyal asshole, the guy who's greatest ambition was to be a teacher, and yet he still knew how to handle his gun.

"Hey," I hear someone plop down beside me. Naomi looks at Ridge, a lost look on her face.

Her blond hair is done in a messy bun, and she's wearing blue nursing scrubs.

"You work here?" I say flatly, my voice conveying no emotion.

She nods. "The perks of a fake name," she holds up a name tag, which states boldly "ROSEMARY JOHNSON".

"Huh,"

"That's him, isn't it?" she mumbles.

"Yeah,"

She leans her head against the wall, rubbing her stomach.

"Boy or girl?"

"Her name's gonna be...actually I don't know yet,"

"Okay," I say, emotionless.

I nearly jump out of my skin when the window opens from the outside and a figure slides inside, Naomi yelps, but I just raise my eyebrows.

"What are you doing here?"

Aspen shakes off her wet sweater, her tousled pixie cut mussy with rain. I realize how pale she looks. She looks...sick. And not just a cold either. "He's my friend as much as he's your boyfriend, Jacobs," is her response, before she plops next to me.