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CHAPTER TWENTY: INTENSIVE CARE

OWEN

When we arrive at the hospital, I continue to hold onto Stacey’s hand as we hurry inside.

“Excuse me,” I say to the nurse sitting at the reception desk. “We’re looking for Melissa Dixon. She was just admitted for a possible heart attack?”

“Are you a relative?” the nurse asks.

“I, um…” I turn to Stacey.

“She’s my grandmother,” Stacey quickly answers.

The nurse nods and types something on the computer in front of her. I glance at Stacey, noting her pale complexion and wide, terrified eyes. Wanting to comfort her however I can, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and kiss the top of her head. She reaches up to clutch my shirt as she keeps her eyes locked on the nurse.

“She’s being examined right now,” the nurse says, looking back up at us. “If you go up to the second floor to intensive care, the doctor will be able to tell you what is going on.”

“Intensive care?” Stacey murmurs, sounding devastated.

“Thank you,” I hurriedly say, before leading her away from the desk and to the elevator. Once we reach the second floor, Stacey practically runs down the hall to the intensive care unit. I let her drag me, not willing to let go of her hand yet. We have to be buzzed in, but once that is done, we burst through the doors and come face-to-face with another nurse, who appears startled by our sudden appearance.

“Excuse me!” Stacey says in a breathless tone. “Can you tell me where Melissa Dixon is? I’m her granddaughter and she had a heart attack and?—”

“Stacey, take a breath,” I gently say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. Meeting the nurse’s wide eyes, I continue, “We’re here to see Melissa Dixon. Downstairs they told us she was being examined.”

The nurse’s expression shifts and she nods in understanding. “Yes, the doctor just finished with Miss Dixon. I can take you to him and he’ll be able to give you a full report of her condition.”

“Okay,” Stacey whimpers. She glances up at me. I can see the hesitation in her gaze.

I give her an encouraging smile and squeeze her hand again. “You go on. I’ll be in the waiting room, okay?”

She licks her lips nervously before slowly nodding. “Don’t leave, please.”

“I won’t,” I promise her.

The nurse leads her away and I finally let go of her hand, though I hate doing so. I want to go with her and be by her side when the doctor says whatever he’s going to say, but I know I can’t.

I’m not family…and I fucking hate that.

Once she disappears down the hall, I make my way to the waiting area in the opposite direction. There are a few other people sitting in the cushioned chairs, all silent, staring listlessly at the TV on the wall. The air is tense with their worry and fear. I sit down in the corner to wait, and now that I’m not focused on keeping Stacey calm, I’m flooded with unwanted memories.

I hate hospitals. I hate the sterile smell and the harsh lights. The beeping that seems to come from every direction, and the sound of shushed voices talking from nurses stations and behind closed doors.

Hospitals make me think of my dad… or, rather, his death. I’ll never be able to forget the sight of him in his hospital bed, his cheeks sunken, his eyes dull. He’d been wasting away right in front of us. There’d been nothing I could do about it. One moment he was there, and the next… gone.

I remember the last time I visited him before he died. He’d reached a point in his decline where he was unconscious most of the time. It was like he was already gone, but his body was just being stubborn and hanging on. I’d reluctantly gone with Mom to see him, not expecting much and hating the fact that I would have to sit and watch his sleeping, dying body with no hope that he’d recover. He was going to die, and soon. I’d accepted that fact, though it gutted me to do so.

That day turned out much different than I’d anticipated, however. To our shock, Dad had been awake and lucid. In fact, he’d seem more energized than he had in weeks. I sat next to his bed, cruel tendrils of hope curling around my heart, despite the rational part of my brain telling me this didn’t mean anything. We were just lucky.

“Owen, I need to tell you something important ,” he’d told me, his voice hoarse but shockingly strong.

“Okay, what is it?”

He’d glanced over at my mother, who’d been sitting on his other side, holding his hand.

“Sweetheart, can I talk to Owen alone for a moment?”

Mom had looked startled and I could tell she didn’t want to leave, but she reluctantly nodded, let go of his hand, and walked out of the room. I imagine it was one of the hardest things she’s ever had to do.

When we were alone again, Dad turned back to me.

“Take care of your mother, ” he’d said. “Make sure she finds happiness again, and make sure you do the same for yourself. All right?”

Blinking, I’d reluctantly nodded, though I wanted to tell him not to say things like that. There was still a chance he could bounce back! He was doing so well that day.

“I will, Dad ,” I’d promised him anyway. “I won’t let you down.”

He’d died that night. Apparently, it’s not unheard of for patients on the brink of death to rally for a bit right before they let go completely. That little bit of hope that had squirmed its way into me had made his loss all the more devastating.

My chest tightens and it gets a little hard to breathe. Fuck, I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be sitting here alone surrounded by signs of death.

I’m not going to leave, though. I’m going to stay here and wait for Stacey, because she asked me to. She needs me. She was there for me back when my dad died. Silent, strong, and determined. She held my hand, just like I was holding hers on the way here. She was my everything — my pillar, my rock in the storm, keeping me grounded. When I lost her, it broke me, but I never realized how much. I’ve become guarded and cautious. I don’t let people in easily. I hate that I let this happen — that I let her go without fighting harder. And I hate Gerald for taking me away from her.

Stacey is everything I’ve ever wanted. She’s loving and compassionate. She takes care of everyone around her. That only makes me want to take care of her more. To be the shoulder she can lean on, when things get hard. To be the person she can cry to when she’s in pain.

It’s not only Stacey I want to be there for, though. After today, that’s truly sunk in on a deeper level: No matter what, I want to be around for Millie, as well. She’s managed to wiggle her way into my heart, and the more time I spend with her, the more similar we seem. Not only her mannerisms, but her determination and confidence. She reminds me of myself when I was a kid, before Gerald came into my life and worked so hard to mold me into what he wanted me to be.

Millie’s similarity to the younger me brings me back to the question that I haven’t dared consider since earlier in Stacey’s kitchen. Could Millie be mine?

No… I need to stop thinking like that. I can’t even consider the possibility that Stacey would keep something like that from me for so long.

Still, that doesn’t mean I couldn’t be a father to her in my own way. Even if she’s not really mine, I can be there in all the ways a dad would be. Her bio dad clearly isn’t in the picture, so it’s not like I’d be pushing in on someone else’s territory. Millie could be mine in all the ways that really matter. The thought makes my heart hammer and excitement courses through me.

I could do it…I could be Millie’s dad. Stacey, Millie, and I could be a real family.

Suddenly, I spot Stacey coming down the hallway and I stand and hurry to meet her halfway. We reach each other in front of the main entrance to the unit and I wrap my arms around, giving her a tight hug.

“How is she?” I ask, noting that some of the color has come back to her cheeks.

She opens her mouth to speak, but before she can utter a single word, the doors beside us slide open and a woman walks through. It takes me a moment to recognize her. The woman’s red hair is graying and her face is lightly wrinkled, but it’s still striking how much Stacey and her mom look alike. Those green eyes are the same, except hers are colder than Stacey’s. She’s dressed in gray dress slacks and a pink silk blouse. I remember how she always took such care of her appearance when Stacey and I were in high school, and she still holds herself with the same rigid stance that screams, “ Don’t fuck with me. ” Laura Dixon locks eyes with me and furrows her brow, fury darkening her expression. I look behind myself, but nobody is there. She’s definitely looking directly at me.

What the hell?

“Mom,” Stacey gasps, clearly shocked to see her.

Laura scoffs and crosses her arms and stares coldly into my eyes. There’s venom in her expression, and I tense, knowing whatever she says is going to cut right through me like a knife.

However, I could never have prepared myself for the words that finally come tumbling from her lips.

“Oh look, it’s Owen.” Laura doesn’t blink. “Is the baby daddy finally stepping up?”