Page 117 of Somehow You Knew

“That’s it. Deep breaths.”

I blow out another. “I’m sorry, I just—I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“No need to apologize. The doctor will be in shortly to explain everything.” She gestures toward the bed. “You can sit with him.”

Nodding, I follow her inside the room and freeze.

Gage is lying in the bed, his face pale against the white sheets, wires and tubes attached to him.

I stifle a sob with my hand.

“He’s going to be okay. He’s resting. He regained consciousness about thirty minutes ago, but he’s going to be in and out of it for a bit.” The vision of him grows blurry through my tears as the nurse hands me a tissue. “Take a seat. The doctor will be in shortly.”

Slowly, I walk to the chair by his bedside and sit, dragging it closer to him as I dab away the tears under my eyes.

“Oh my God, Gage,” I whisper, reaching for his hand, relieved to feel his warmth. He’s still alive. He’s still here. But I have no idea what the nurse was talking about, and suddenly I wonder if this is what he’s been keeping from me, just like Dallas suspected.

I sit there staring at him before resting my head on the bed right next to his arm and feeling the adrenaline start to subside from the past hour. Just as I feel myself drift off to sleep, Gage moves and startles me.

My head pops up to find his eyes open, staring at me. “Gage?”

When he sees me, his eyes widen and then close just as fast. “Fuck.”

“You’re okay. You’re in the hospital, but…”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he yells, pressing the button on the remote next to him, paging the nurse.

The same nurse from before comes barreling through the door. “Mr. Kingston? Is everything okay?”

“No. I need to get out of here.” Gage starts pulling at wires, but I grab his hand.

“Stop!” I grab his hands. “What are you doing?”

“Ah, Mr. Kingston, you’re awake.” A doctor enters the room and Gage freezes. “I highly recommend you refrain from pulling any chords, sir, or things could get worse before they get better.” Then he turns to me. “You must be his wife?”

“Yes, but forgive me. I honestly have no idea what is going on here.”

Gage mutters again through clenched teeth. “Fuck.”

I turn back between him and the doctor. “And since there only seems to be one word my husband is capable of speaking, could you please explain it to me?”

The doctor extends his hand. “Well, I’m Dr. Owens, but I’ve been in contact with Dr. Miranda, who is Gage’s heart specialist back in Florida, so I’ve been brought up to speed on his condition.”

“Dr. Miranda?” I ask, looking back at Gage. “That’swho Miranda is? Your doctor?” But Gage doesn’t say anything, so I take a seat on the edge of the bed and grab his hand, even though I can feel him stiffening beside me. “What condition?”

“Your husband has something called Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy, or HCM.”

“What is that?” I ask as I look back at Gage, who’s avoiding my eyes now.

“It’s a condition where the heart muscle becomes thickened, making it harder for the heart to pump blood. Symptoms include shortness of breath, dizziness, and fainting, which is what led him here today. Some cases are mild. Others, like your husband’s, are more severe.”

“Fuck,” Gage mumbles again.

I glare at him. “Yes, we’ve established that’s your new favorite word, babe. Now, if you would, please let the doctor finish.”

“You shouldn’t be here, Hazel,” Gage says suddenly, taking me by surprise.

“Where else would I be?”