Page 88 of Saving His Heart

Less than a week later, I sign the papers to turn off life support.

Chapter 37

Emory

Day 1

My head rarely leaves Preston’s chest as I lay beside him. The hopelessness I feel burns deep in my soul. It’s all-consuming knowing I’ve failed. With my eyes closed and my tears soaking Preston’s chest, I listen to Dr. Terry explain to the room what I have just done.

“If she removed all assisted-living devices, why does he still have an IV?” one of the brothers asks. Without seeing them, I can’t tell them apart. With my eyes closed, they all sound like Preston, and it twists the knife deeper into my chest.

“Emory left the IV intact so we can continue with pain management. As his body shuts down, breathing will become labored. We want to keep him as comfortable as we can while this process happens,” Dr. Terry explains.

“How long will it take?” another brother asks.

I glance up to see Sylvie has laid her head down on Preston’s other side. We stare at each other, recognizing and sharing in the other’s pain.

“There’s no set time, son. It could be a day or as long as a week. There is just no way of knowing with these things.”

“And you’re sure, Doctor? You’re sure that there isn’t anything we can do? There are four of us. Can’t you take a piece from all of our hearts to fix his?”

Bargaining. There are stages of grieving, but until you experience them, you can never fully understand it.

“No, son. I’m sorry. Without a transplant, the most we can do is keep him comfortable.”

Someone kicks a chair, and it screeches across the floor.

Anger.

“Emory?” Sylvie asks quietly. “You need to eat something, sweetie. You haven’t left his side in days. We will get through this together, okay? I promise you, but I need you to take care of yourself, too.”

Acceptance.

Placing my hand over hers, I give it a meek squeeze. “I’m alright, Sylvie.” I close my eyes again and listen to his heart.

When I open them, I notice the light is no longer streaming through the blinds. Lifting my head, I see some tables were brought in, and everyone’s scattered throughout the room. They’ve ordered pizza and beer, which makes me laugh. This is how Preston would have wanted it.

Colton catches my eye and grabs a beer on his way over. Sitting opposite me, he hands me the bottle, but I decline.

“Just take a sip, Emory. Everyone’s worried about you. If you’re not going to eat, at least drink something that will numb your pain for a bit.”

Figuring taking a drink is the easiest way to appease him, I do. The cold, bitter taste of hops coating my unnaturally dry throat feels nice, so I take another sip, and he chuckles.

“Hey, Ems? I’m sorry about the other day. I … Preston has been more like a father to Ash and me since ours passed away. I, it just felt like—”

“I’m sorry, too, Colt. I know this is hard. We’re all doing the best we can. You’re entitled to feel however you feel. I shouldn’t have attacked you like that.”

His grin is so reminiscent of Preston’s it makes me ache. “That’s where you’re wrong, Ems. That’s what Preston would have wanted you to do, put me in my place, and help me see things from a different perspective.” Standing, he kisses me on the forehead. “You’re the big sister I never knew I needed.”

Where the hell did this family come from?

Day 2

“Any change?” Dr. Terry asks as I finish my exam.

“He’s shutting down, as expected,” I force out. In another of Dr. Terry’s miracles, no one has questioned me taking over Preston’s care with no license.

“Emory, make sure that you’re taking care of yourself. Sylvie said you haven’t eaten and have barely drunk anything since you’ve been here.”