Cassidy closed her eyes and tried to be somewhere else. Sweat dampened her armpits and forehead. With shaking fingers, she brought the bottle of water to her lips. It had warmed, and the plastic rim felt foreign on her lips. Her mind traveled back in time to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Bellingham after the avalanche and the way Pete had made a pass at her in the exam room. Even after surviving a tragedy, he had been so ready to jump right back into life, as if the avalanche had been some kind of test, and he’d passed, so why shouldn’t they celebrate? The image of it made her laugh out loud. The sudden sound shocked her and garnered her concerned looks from other passengers. Appalled by her outburst, her laughter transformed into a series of sobs. More images of their time together flashed through her mind: the field work on St. Helens and the waterfall, the ski date and the many that followed, him in her kitchen, humming while cooking her something amazing, riding bikes on the Burke-Gilman trail to a favorite coffee shop, the many work sessions at Julia’s café, walks in the rain, making love on Pete’s couch, the two of them in her bathtub with his strong arms wrapped around her.
Oh God, she thought, breaking down again. Please let him be okay.
By the time her ride pulled up in front of the hospital’s main entrance, the dashboard clock read just past 8:00 a.m. Quinn had instructed her where to meet him. The sterile glass doors slid apart, and she stepped through to an open space with giant ceilings and colorful artwork splashed across the floor and walls. A reception desk manned by two people with badges stood to one side.
“Cass,” Quinn’s voice called out, and she turned to see him hurrying her way.
She dove into his arms, her sudden sobs muffled by his shoulder. Her whole body shook, and she felt as if the vibrations might rattle her head right off her body. A chill prickled her skin and she held him tighter. When she finally stepped back, she saw his swollen eyes and the terror on his tight face.
The fact that he wasn’t hurrying unsettled her. She had imagined them rushing up to see Pete and had prepared herself for a room full of doctors all swarming around him, wires and tubes poking out of him while he lay there fighting for his life.
“Let’s check you in, and I’ll take you up,” Quinn said. He led her to the front desk where Cassidy managed to give her name and attach her temporary badge to her chest. Then they walked to the elevators and rode in silence. Quinn’s hand in hers was the only thing keeping her from cracking into a million pieces.
The elevator doors opened and they walked down a hallway and through a series of doors to one labeled “Intensive Care Unit.”
Cassidy felt all of her muscles tense as Quinn pushed through the door. Behind it, a long desk extended down the right side of the hallway, with rooms opposite. A woman with dark brown hair pulled into a ponytail and dressed in nurse’s scrubs moved towards them from behind the desk. Her young, rosy face would have been cheerful, but her hazel eyes carried a stillness that communicated something else.
She stepped forward. “Hello, Cassidy,” the nurse said, keeping her hands clasped in front of her. “My name is Samantha.”
“She’s one of the nurses helping to care for Pete,” Quinn said.
“Oh,” Cassidy said.
An alarm blared from a room down the hall, and one of the other nurses at the station scurried off toward it. Cassidy noticed the other sounds in the space: a doctor’s voice coming from inside one of the rooms, and the sound of footsteps, doors closing, a cleaning cart’s wheels squeaking down the hall, the staff at the nurse’s station chatting, moving, sipping coffee from white paper cups. All of this activity seemed so suddenly surreal that she had to go back in time just to remember the reason she was here.
“Before we see him, there’s a few things I would like to tell you,” Samantha said in a steady voice. “We can talk in our conference room,” she said, indicating a door behind the nurse’s station.
“No,” Cassidy said, feeling her pulse jump. She moved in the direction of the rooms. She had come all this way to see Pete, not to talk to a stranger. But Quinn’s hand tugged her back, and she turned. His look broke her heart.
She looked from Quinn to Samantha, but Samantha’s eyes hadn’t changed. Quinn’s were filling with tears.
“Oh God,” she gasped, clasping her free hand over her mouth.
Samantha led them into a small room. Cassidy and Quinn sat down in hard plastic chairs across the table from Samantha.
“Pete has suffered a devastating brain injury,” Samantha said once they were settled, her compassionate expression connecting with each of them.
Quinn squeezed Cassidy’s hand.
“We’re doing everything we can to make him comfortable.”
In the following pause, Cassidy felt the room slowly tilt. “So, what does that . . . ” She stopped herself. “I mean, can’t they operate?”
Samantha’s lips tightened. “I’m afraid his injuries are too severe.”
“So I came all this way and he’s going to . . . ” The words tumbled out. “Are you saying there’s nothing you can do?” she cried.
“Cass,” Quinn said, glancing at her nervously.
“It’s okay,” Samantha said to him, then looked at Cassidy. “I’m here to answer all of your questions.”
Samantha’s steely composure helped Cassidy understand, even though she didn’t want to. She wanted to be mad—being mad felt good.
Samantha seemed
