Page 72

My own heart has been thundering since the plane landed. Is this it? Is it happening to me, too?

I realize it’s just nerves, but that doesn’t make it any less stressful as I get off the plane and find a ride to take me to Connor’s place.

The last time I was here was last Christmas. Santa came, and in with him apparently flew Uncle Coop.

I texted my mom as soon as the plane touched down to let her know I was here, and she said she was at the hospital. Marissa went home to get the kids off to school, and their dad has been traveling so much lately that neither of them even knows he’s at the hospital. I guess they wanted to keep it quiet until they knew what they were dealing with, and it’s one of those odd situations where I wonder how I would’ve handled it with my own kids.

Would I have woken them and hugged them before I let the ambulance take me away, or would that have just traumatized them?

I think back to when my own dad passed. I was the same age my nephew Jacob is now.

He had a heart attack while he was at work. He was inspecting a circuit breaker one minute and unconscious the next. The ambulance didn’t even make it on time to try to revive him.

When we said goodbye that morning before I left for school, I had no way of knowing it would be the last time.

But that’s life, isn’t it? We never know when we’re doing anything for the last time until we look back and can say it was the last time. It’s fleeting and it’s ever-changing and it’s indiscriminate.

I didn’t know when I busted my elbow that it would be my last time playing ball, but it was—or at least I thought it was until a month ago when Troy gave me the opportunity to come back. But it’s rare to get a second chance at the big things.

He’s only thirty-seven.

That’s the thought I keep circling back to.

He’s only thirty-seven.

My dad was only forty-one.

I’m thirty-three. Four years away from thirty-seven. Eight years away from forty-one.

I don’t feel like I’m on the way out. I feel young most days, but I’m afraid growing old just doesn’t run in the genes of the Noah men, and the whole reason I’m here today proves that.

Troy was beyond understanding, and he surprised me when he admitted heart disease runs in his family, too. He told me he lost his father to a heart attack a decade ago, and if he wasn’t so stubborn and he would’ve just gone to the hospital, he might’ve survived it.

That’s what I’m clinging to—that Marissa called the ambulance in time. That she got my brother help in time.

My sister-in-law opens the door when I knock. She suggested I swing by the house first to drop my bags. She’s going back to the hospital anyway, so she showered and waited for me so we could go see my brother together.

“How’s he doing?” I ask as I step in and wrap my sister-in-law into a hug. Marissa and Connor have been together for nearly as long as I can remember. They met in junior high and have been inseparable ever since. She was there when Dad died, and she’s been like a sister to me for just as long.

“They put in a stent last night to release the blockage, and now he’s in the CCU,” she says.

“The CCU?” I ask.

“Cardiac Care Unit. They’re running labs to see how he’s responding, and he’s resting in between. He has to stay flat for a while since he’s on blood thinners and has an open entry point, but we’re hopeful they’ll move him to the regular telemetry floor later today. You ready to go see him?”

I nod, setting my suitcase to the side of the door, and I follow her through the house to the garage, where I slide into the passenger seat of her SUV.

“How are the boys?” I ask, trying to make conversation as we head toward the hospital, and I guess that’s the question that breaks the camel’s back, because Marissa starts to cry. I think about trying to backtrack, but I’m not even sure how at this point.

She blows out a breath. “I just feel so guilty that they’re at school totally oblivious to what’s going on with their dad.”

I reach over and squeeze her arm. “It’s okay. You’re just protecting them.”

“But what if he doesn’t make it and we kept them from him in his last moments?” Her voice barely comes out above a whisper.

“We can’t think like that, okay? He’s going to make it. He’s strong. He’s young. He’s got a lot to live for.”

So was my dad. He was strong, and young, and he had a lot to live for. That didn’t keep him here.

I don’t say that, obviously.

She nods and draws in a deep breath. “Okay.” She sniffs. “You’re right. This is all just scary.” She reaches over to grab my hand, and I squeeze hers back.

“Of course it is. I’m scared, too. But we’ll rally around Connor. He’s stubborn, and he’s not giving up without one hell of a fight.”

She nods. “He’s so stubborn. God, he didn’t even want to go to the hospital last night! He was clammy and shaking and could barely breathe and I had to call for the ambulance when I left the room because he wouldn’t let me do it.”

I squeeze her hand, which I’m still holding. “You might’ve saved his life, Marissa.”

She glances at me as she pulls up to a stoplight, pressing her lips together. “I hope so.”

We arrive at the hospital a few minutes later, and we walk toward the Cardiac Care Unit after we’re screened at the front desk. I text my mom to let her know we’re here, and she’s waiting by the elevators when we step off them. She practically leaps into my arms for a hug, and I hold her tightly. “It’s okay, Mom.” I try to soothe her and fight off my own emotions at the same time.

“I’m scared,” she whispers.

“I know. Me too.” I squeeze her again, and she pulls back and leads us down the hall to his room.

When she opens the door, I find my brother lying on a bed looking rather pale and weak, a whole bunch of white stickers with wires sticking out of them attached to his chest. A nurse stands by reading a screen, and my brother’s brows rise as he turns his head and sees me walk in.

“Hey, Pooper’s here!” he says a little weakly, using the nickname he gave me when I was two and in diapers and he thought he was a hilarious six-year-old.

“He’s on morphine,” the nurse says as if that explains his nickname for me. It doesn’t. He’d call me that whether or not he was hopped up on drugs.

I force a laugh even though it doesn’t feel like there’s much to laugh at right now. “How are you feeling, Con-man?” I ask cautiously, throwing one of the nicknames I dubbed him with when he started law school back at him.

“I’m fine. These nurses don’t believe me when I say I’m fine.” He shoots a glare at the nurse. “I told them I need to get the hell out of here. I’m losing time on an important case. I’m up for partner, you know.” He says it proudly.

“We know, we know, Mr. Noah. We’re still running tests, and I already told you that every time you talk about making partner, your heart rate picks up speed,” the nurse says.

Connor draws in a deep breath and blows it out slowly as if that’ll slow his numbers.

“Honey, maybe partner isn’t the best thing right now,” Mom starts to say, and the nurse shoots her a dirty look as we all watch the lines on the screen jump. She holds up her hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry.”

A doctor steps into the room, and the nurse shoos us out so he can examine my brother. We head out to the hall to get out of the way.

“He looks good,” I lie. I shouldn’t lie. Everyone who knows me knows I can’t lie, but the truth is that while he looked pale and weak, he also looked okay . He didn’t look like he was banging down death’s door, anyway. But I don’t really know what heart disease looks like on the outside.

Marissa presses her lips together. “Just don’t bring up partner,” she says. “It’s a point of contention between the two of us anyway. He hasn’t been to a single one of Jacob’s swim meets this season, and don’t even get me started on the last time he was at one of Ethan’s baseball games.”

She shakes her head, and I get the feeling it’s not just Ethan and Jacob’s events her husband has been missing out on. In fact, I wonder if she quit her job teaching so the boys would feel like at least one parent was focused on them.

It's a terrible thought to have, but the fast-paced, stressful job could potentially be what led Connor exactly where he is right now. Well, that combined with the fast food, the genetics, and the blocked arteries.

Doctors and nurses are in and out, and I’m confident my brother is getting the best care possible. We head down to lunch, and it’s as we’re finishing that Marissa looks at her watch and promptly breaks down crying.

My mom tosses an arm around her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

“The boys get out of school in two hours and I don’t know how I’m going to tell them,” she wails.

“Let me tell them, then,” I say quietly.

Her brows dip.

“You stay here with Connor,” I say. “Mom and I will go pick them up from the bus stop and take them home. We’ll let them know what’s going on, and we’ll answer their questions. We’ll make sure they’re safe and taken care of.”

Marissa cries a little harder for a second before she sucks in a deep breath. “How are you still single?”

My mom laughs, and I roll my eyes.

“What?” she says. “You’re just so…” she trails off as she searches for the right word. “Good. Wholesome. Kind. And if you weren’t like a little brother to me, I might even say good looking.”

“Good looking?” I repeat, wrinkling my nose. It’s a far cry from Hottie McCuteStuff, as Gabby once referred to me.

Gabby.

My chest tightens. She’s never far from my thoughts, yet in this moment, her appearance front and center feels somehow gut wrenching.

It’s gut wrenching that she isn’t here with me…that she can’t be here with me.

It’s gut wrenching that she’s twelve years my junior and my best friend’s daughter.

It’s gut wrenching that she doesn’t want the same future at the same time I want it.

Are our worlds and our lives just too far apart, or can we really find a way to make this work?

That’s the question on my mind as we finish up lunch and return our trays. It’s the question that plagues me as I make small talk with my mom on the way to pick up the boys. It stays with me as we feed them dinner and as they video chat with their dad and as I settle into bed in the guest room.

And once I’m there, settled in under the sheets and blankets that are already making me way too hot, exhausted from getting no sleep last night but knowing I need to have this conversation anyway or I’ll be in for a restless night…it’s time to finally ask the question to maybe the only other person who can help me answer it.