Page 44 of Worthy or Knot (Serendipity Omegaverse #3)

Forty-Four

MEGAN

T he sun’s just starting to lighten the dark blue sky when we step out of the elevator and onto the Omega ICU floor.

The receptionist glances at us before nodding, wordlessly opening the locked doors and letting us inside.

My phone vibrates before we’ve made it down the hallway to his room. I open the text from Riley.

I’ve got you covered today. Let me know what they say and we can figure out next week, too.

Seriously the best friend. Thank you.

No problem.

“His door is open,” Charlotte whispers.

I shove my phone away and look up. She’s right.

And the nurse isn’t at the station, either.

When we get close enough to glance in, both doctors are standing at the edge of Cole’s bed, and the nurse is tapping the monitor’s screen, pulling up historical data so it’s easily seen in the room and not just at the computer desk.

I guess we took longer to get here than I thought.

Charlotte hesitates at the door to Cole’s room, her uneasiness written across her body like a billboard.

With a squeeze of her hand, I pull her through, carefully dodging around the night nurse and both doctors until we’re standing against the couch under the window.

Cole’s perched in bed, answering questions in a quiet, hoarse voice that’s nothing like his normally warm tenor.

It’s not unexpected—vocal changes are common after any kind of intubation and typically resolve in a week or two.

The difference has Charlotte tensing beside me, though, a bitter edge creeping into her swirling sage scent.

Marcus stands just off to the side, his arms crossed as he watches the exchange, his shoulders tight.

His gaze flicks over to us. I give a half-smile that he manages to return.

When Dr. Faulks starts on the neurological exam, Marcus is right there, helping fill in the gaps of Cole’s current abilities.

Some of it is normal, weaknesses that are expected after the crisis event.

Some have a knot of worry growing larger under my diaphragm until it’s nearly impossible to breathe.

Finally, the doctors back away from the bed. I squeeze Charlotte’s hand again and go to Cole. His eyes are glassy as he sees that we’re here. Before he can say anything, Charlotte’s arms are around him, pulling him tight.

“Lottie,” he whispers in that cracked voice. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She shakes her head. “It’s okay. You’re awake, and it’ll be okay now.”

His smile is sad as she pulls away, giving me a chance to pull Cole into my own arms. He shakes, his hands trembling enough that it’ll probably impact his ability to do daily tasks.

My brain’s already thinking through next steps, the things the doctors are going to tell us are happening as soon as our reunion is over.

Physical therapy, occupational therapy, a new regimen of medications that will probably be permanent.

“I love you,” I whisper against his hair, squeezing his shaking fingers.

He shudders against me, his breath catching.

“Pack Harper?” Dr. Faulks say it like a question, quietly letting us know they’re ready to discuss the new care plan.

Cole pulls away but doesn’t let go of my hand. Marcus grabs is other one, perching on the bit of bed next to his hip. Charlotte mirrors him without even meaning to, palming Cole’s leg over the blankets.

“Cole, your labs look good. There doesn’t appear to be any lasting damage to any of your organs which is fantastic.” Dr. Faulks says, tucking his hands into his pockets. “It’s difficult to tell if the neurological changes, the tremors and the pain you described, will fade with time.”

And then he lays out the plan I expected. Step-down care for the next few days until he’s able to walk and eat on his own. Then long-term physical and occupational therapy to address the neurological changes.

“Once you’re home, we’ll schedule weekly follow-ups at the Clinic to track what permanent changes have occurred with the OBS.

It’s possible that this crisis was due only to your heat triggering when you weren’t stable enough to weather it.

With the new medication combination we’ve developed while here, you could possibly enter the remission your prior bloodwork showed was a possibility. ”

Hope springs between the four of us, especially Cole. His eyes are wide.

“Really?”

Dr. Faulks nods. “It won’t reverse anything that’s happened, and we won’t be able to let you go through a heat cycle until it’s confirmed, but with everything I’ve seen the last week and the most recent month of bloodwork from Dr. Wales, I won’t take it off the table. Remission could be very possible.”

They leave soon after with instructions to try and eat something. The nurse is all smiles as she makes sure Cole’s comfortable.

“The day nurse will be here in another half hour. I believe it’s Jacob today. If you have any concerns, grab us from the desk like always.”

Marcus nods, and then she’s gone, too, closing the door behind her and dropping the curtain so we have privacy.

Cole shudders in a breath. “I’m so?—”

“Absolutely not.” I press a finger to his lips. “No apology will change what’s happened. We love you. We’re going to weather this with you.”

The tears fall down his cheeks as he nods. Charlotte wipes them away and then traces her healed bond scar.

For the first time in a week, I can breathe without it feeling like jagged shards of glass.

Charlotte relaxes, laying her head on his thigh, and Marcus keeps tight hold of his hand.

In the quiet, we slowly find the equilibrium we had the weekend we signed the paperwork. It’s more muted, but it’s there.

I pull my phone after a while and send Riley an update.

I think it’s time I fill out the paperwork for an extended absence. He’s going to need me at home for a while.

Absolutely. I’ll get it together and bring it up after I clock out in another hour.

“I…” Cole clears his throat like it hurts.

Marcus grabs the water and holds it for him. Cole squeezes my hand before letting it go and threading his fingers through Charlotte’s hair.

“I love you,” he whispers.