Page 40 of Love Loathe Devotion (Tightrope #3)

He’s out there changing lives, begging the world to step up and save kids like Joey. And here I am, sitting in the cold silence of a hospital waiting room, doing nothing while one of the most important people in my life fights for every breath.

Tears sting at my eyes.

I wipe them away with my sleeve, staring blankly at the door.

I don’t know who to call.

I don’t want to take away from what tonight was supposed to be. But I also want him here. More than anything.

The door swings open.

Lucas steps out, looking older in this moment than I’ve ever seen him. His shoulders are low. His eyes are rimmed red. His hands twitch like he doesn’t know what to do with them.

I shoot to my feet. “How is he?”

“They’re… stabilizing him,” he says, voice hollow. “Trying to drain the fluid. He’s in and out.”

My throat tightens painfully. “What can I do?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. There’s nothing left to do but wait. And… pray.”

His voice cracks on the last word. My heart folds in on itself.

“Do you want me to call anyone?”

He shakes his head slowly. “I’ll call Nico.”

He slumps into the chair beside me, dragging his phone out with shaking hands. He finds the name, taps it, lifts it to his ear.

“Come on,” he whispers. “Come on…”

The second the line connects, I hear Nico’s voice.

“Lucas?”

Lucas opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

He bows his head, one hand dragging across his face as his entire body shudders with the effort of keeping it together. His breath hitches. His shoulders quake.

“Lucas?” Nico says again, alarmed now. “What’s wrong?”

I reach out, gently take the phone from Lucas, and lift it to my ear, trying to sound steady even as my voice wobbles. “Nico, it’s Laney.”

“What’s happened?”

“It’s Joey,” I whisper. “He’s… he’s not doing well. Swelling, unresponsive. They’re stabilizing him now, but it’s… it’s bad.”

A beat of silence on the other end. Then Nico’s voice, calm and deadly certain. “I’ll get Eddie. We’ll be on the next flight.”

I exhale shakily, clutching the phone like a lifeline. “Thank you. I—thank you.”

“He’ll want to know,” Nico says. “And he’ll want to be there. Hold tight, Laney. We’ve got you.”

I end the call and lower the phone slowly, pressing it to my chest.

Lucas is quiet beside me, wiped out, eyes closed, fists clenched against his knees. I touch his arm gently. “They’re coming. Nico and Eddie. They’ll be on the first flight.”

He nods once, then turns to me, his eyes filled with something broken—but also something grateful.

We don’t speak again as he leaves to go back in to Sam.

I sit alone in the waiting room, surrounded by fluorescent light and the hum of machines behind double doors, holding on to hope like it’s the only thing I have left.

Because maybe it is.

Time stretches.

Distorts.

Swells and contracts like breath through a cracked rib cage.

I sit in the same chair, elbows on knees, my hands clasped so tightly my knuckles ache.

The bright overhead lights buzz and hum, casting sharp shadows on the pale vinyl floor.

My eyes sting from not blinking enough. From blinking too much.

From trying to hold back the tears that come and go like waves.

No one speaks to me.

A nurse passed by earlier, gently asked if I wanted coffee. I shook my head. I couldn’t form words.

Now it’s quiet again. The clock on the wall ticks past. I know the numbers, but they don’t feel real.

Joey is behind those doors. Sam is with him. Lucas hasn’t come out since the call to Nico.

And I—

I just wait.

I think of Eddie—what he’s doing right now. If he knows. If Nico told him gently, or if he had to rip the truth out fast like a bandage.

I picture his face when he hears about Joey.

That little boy who calls him ‘my Eddie’ with a crooked smile and glitter glue stuck to his fingers.

God.

He must be shattered.

But I know him. He’ll be coming. No delays. No detours. Nico doesn’t book commercial flights—he’ll already have the jet moving.

They’re coming.

That’s the only thing keeping me from crumbling.

I shift in the chair, pulling Eddie’s hoodie tighter around me. It still smells like him. A trace of cologne. Of comfort. Of the life we’ve started to build.

A few more people have entered the waiting room over the last hour—a crying couple, an older man with a bloodied bandage on his hand, a woman sitting alone, staring into her lap.

But it feels like we’re all moving through our own private hells, connected only by the silence and the soft scuff of nurses’ shoes on linoleum.

I glance up as the double doors hiss open.

Lucas steps out.

His face is pale. Hollowed out. Eyes bloodshot, jaw locked tight.

I stand, instantly.

“They’re still working,” he says, his voice rasping like he hasn’t used it in hours. “Vitals are holding steady. He’s resting. They’ve got him on oxygen and a diuretic to reduce the swelling.”

I nod, swallowing against the lump in my throat. “That’s good, right?”

“It’s something.” He rubs his hand across his mouth and, for a second, I think he’s going to sit—but then he shakes his head. “You should go home,” he says, voice low. “I know how hard it is waiting for news in this place. I’m sorry we dragged you into this.”

“You didn’t drag me,” I say gently. “I love him, Lucas. He’s… my family too.”

He just nods once, throat working as he stares down at the floor.

“I’m staying,” I add firmly. “Eddie and Nico are on their way. I’m going to be here when they get here.”

Lucas doesn’t try to argue. He just looks at me and, in that moment, I see every bit of fear he’s buried behind that steel backbone.

Then he places a hand on my shoulder—heavy, grateful. “Thank you.”

I nod. “Go back to Sam. I’ll be right here.”

He turns and disappears through the doors again, the soft hiss sealing him back into that world of beeping machines and whispered prayers.

I sit. The vinyl squeaks beneath me.

And I wait.

For the man I love.

For the friend who always shows up when it matters.

For the moment the door opens again, and I don’t have to be strong on my own anymore.