Brad shrugged. Tried not to listen to the siren. The cars on the street pulled over to make way, but even then, it didn’t feel like they were moving fast enough. He made himself relax, breathing in deep. The cab smelled like Adele’s willow scent, and Philippe’s jute.
An eternity later, they pulled up outside the emergency department, Adele hopping out of the cab, opening the van’s back doors.
They wheeled Gwen into the hospital, straight into a curtained-off area so they could transfer her onto one of the hospital’s gurneys. Ian was holding onto Gwen, murmuring to her, his face pale.
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “We’ll go out for a turkey dinner and ice cream when you’re discharged, okay?”
Gwen whimpered, her eyes red with tears. Brad’s heart squeezed.
A doctor strode in, scanning over Gwen. Pale hair, glasses perched on his nose, and a beta, from his sage scent.
Philippe briefed the doctor on what he’d done. Ian told the doctor about Gwen’s medical history. Brad held Ian’s other hand, standing by his omega. Didn’t know what else he could do. He didn’t know enough about Gwen, didn’t have the expertise to cure her.
The doctor took Gwen’s pulse. “It looks like she’s stabilized for now. In the meantime, we’ll transfer her to the cardiology department for the best care. I’ll get an ECG done while Dr. Fenway gets here.”
“Dr. Fenway does my surgeries,” Gwen said in a small voice, her eyes wide and frightened. “I don’t want another surgery.”
The doctor met her gaze kindly. “You may have to undergo one to feel better.”
Gwen’s eyes filled with tears. Ian’s shoulders sagged. Brad squeezed his waist, and Ian leaned into him, his expression drained.
“I’ll get the ECG set up,” the doctor said. “We’ll contact Dr. Fenway in the meantime.”
“Daddy,” Gwen said, her face crumpling.
Ian pulled her into a hug, murmuring into her ear. Brad breathed out, his chest aching. Felt like yelling at someone. Punching someone in the face, maybe. At least it would feel like he was accomplishing something.
It wasn’t long until the nurse wheeled in the ECG machine. Ian stood back, holding Gwen’s hand. Brad held on to Ian’s other hand, stroking Gwen’s hair so at least they were all connected.
If he and Ian ever got together for real, this would be Brad’s life. Dealing with Gwen’s health issues, being at the hospital, knowing there was a chance he could lose his daughter.
Brad realized he would much rather take on all of that, than never see Gwen again.
“Hey, Brad, we’re leaving,” Adele said, clapping Brad on the shoulder. “Got another call.”
Brad nodded at Adele and Philippe, gratitude filling his chest. “Thanks for getting Gwen here.”
They waved, and Brad turned back to Gwen, pulling Ian against himself. He wanted all of this to be over. Wanted to have Gwen and Ian home with him, Gwen back to her normal bubbly self. Ian was tense, though, like he couldn’t relax.
The ECG beeped when it was done. Ian held his breath. They looked up when a different doctor stepped in, tall and thin.
“Dr. Fenway,” Ian said, relief flickering in his eyes.
“Mr. McMillan,” Fenway said. Then he glanced at Brad. “And you are…?”
“Gwen’s other dad,” Brad said. “Brad Saxon.”
Fenway shook their hands. Then he bent over Gwen, meeting her eyes with a friendly smile. “Hello, Gwen. How are you doing?”
“Better now.” Gwen made a face, her nose red. “I don’t want another surgery.”
Fenway hummed, glancing over Gwen’s clipboard and the ECG results. Then he pressed a stethoscope to her chest, listening.
It felt like forever before he said, “It looks like your heart isn’t doing so great, Gwen. There’s a lot of pressure on your right ventricle. We’ll have to do an MRI, but chances are, we may have to perform another surgery.”
Ian closed his eyes. Brad imagined him thinking about the hospital bills, the risks of the operation, and everything that was terrible and depressing. He held Ian against himself, rubbing his back.
Ian remained tense, though. “What are the risks of the surgery?”
“20% mortality,” Fenway said. “I’ve performed it a number of times in the last year. The chances of success are relatively high.”
Twenty percent was still far more than Brad was willing to risk.
“Please continue with the tests,” Ian said.
Gwen’s face crumpled. She looked pleadingly at Ian; Ian blinked hard, his eyes wet. He slipped his arms around Gwen, sniffling.
“I want you to be happy, hon,” Ian murmured. “I wish you could play with the other children, too. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Gwen bit her lip, nodding.
“You’ll be fine,” Ian said. “You’ll see.”
Part of Brad wanted to ask, What if you lose her? Why risk it? But another part of him didn’t want to put Ian through that. Ian already knew the possible consequences.
How many times had he made Gwen a promise, without knowing if the surgery would turn out okay? How many times had he been alone, worrying by himself?
Fenway told Ian the details of the MRI, then the surgical procedures if the results turned out bad. Brad tried to listen, but his brain wasn’t working anymore. His daughter was probably going into surgery. There was a chance she might not make it, and he needed to punch the wall, do something to vent his frustration.
He couldn’t lash out right now. Needed to hold himself together for him and Ian.
“If the MRI results show obstructed arteries,” Fenway said, “we’ll proceed with the surgery with your consent.”
Ian gulped, but he bowed his head.
“We’ll be moving Gwen to the cardiology department,” Fenway added. “You’re welcome to accompany her before and after the MRI.”
A couple of nurses came in, changing Gwen out of her clothes into a hospital gown. They pushed Gwen’s gurney into a sterile corridor, then a long metal elevator. Brad held Ian’s hand as they followed Gwen into the elevator.
They were
