My Sydney, the girl who had more life in her tiny body than a thousand people, is still. Her laughter and smart comments aren’t filling the air.
Instead, it’s silent.
Eerily quiet.
And I want to die.
I want her back. I want to be able to beg her to forgive me, promise to let myself love her, and give her the faith that I’ve failed to show her.
And then, I do something I haven’t done since I lost my mother … I cry. Tears fall down my cheeks as the despair grips me in a way I have never felt before this moment.
Please, God, don’t do this. Please give me another chance to make this right. Don’t take everything I never knew I needed. Let me … please.
I move forward, dread making my feet feel like they’re lead balloons. My heart is beating fast, and I can’t speak as I make my way to the side of her bed and take her hand in mine.
Tears fall freely down my cheeks, but I don’t brush them aside. I let them slice down my face, right through to my heart.
“Can she … is she?” I try to form a question, but the words are garbled and halting as they catch in my throat.
“She’s alive and breathing on her own, we’re not sure if she can hear, but she’s not responding at this point. I’ll give you some time before we take her down for another test. Maybe hearing your voice will help.” The doctor pushes the door open and leaves.
I’m not sure what to do. Nothing feels right, and there’s an emptiness inside me.
I push her blonde hair back from her face. “Syd, you have to wake up.” She doesn’t move. “See, I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist, and I can’t handle losing you, so I need you to wake up. I know what I’m asking is selfish, and you have no reason to care if I’m in agony without you, but I need you, Bean.” I sit in the chair, my hand wraps around hers. “I should’ve come after you that night. I should’ve run to you and begged you to forgive me for being a coward. If I had told you about it all—my plans, my fears, my heart—then maybe you would be awake right now. I love you, Sydney. I love you more than I can ever express. You need to wake up so I can tell you all of this though. I want to make it up to you and our son.” My throat tightens, my voice cracks and another sob breaks free.
Our son.
He’s inside her right now while she sleeps. Does he know his mother loves him more than her own life? Does he know how perfect she is and how lucky he is to have her? Will he be what keeps her fighting?
My thumb rubs against the top of her hand, and I wait for anything. “I bought your farm. I would buy a hundred of them if it meant you’d be happy. So many things I did wrong, Syd. Please, Bean, open your eyes and let me make them up to you.”
There’s a knock on the glass door before it opens, and the doctor steps back in. “Her sister is asking to come in, but you both can’t be in here while we wait for the results from the tests.”
My hand tightens around hers, and I push back the urge to rage against the injustice of it all.
“Okay.”
“I’ll come back to the waiting room and get you both once we have her settled.”
I stand, unable to release her hand. Two nurses enter and start to adjust wires and tubes. I still don’t move. I can’t let her go.
I can’t make my hands move.
I watch her, willing her to open her eyes and stop this. “Please,” my voice is barely a whisper but sounds like a scream in the room.
Everyone stops moving and then the nurse rests her hand on top of mine. I look up at her face, which is warm and kind. The nurse is maybe in her late fifties and reminds me of my mother in some way. She doesn’t offer me anything other than comfort and something to ground myself to.
“I can’t let her go,” I admit.
She squeezes just a bit. “We will be with her and watching.”
“She’s my world.” Only she doesn’t know it.
The nurse smiles softly and nods. “I understand. Let us take care of her.”
She pulls my hand off Sydney’s, and I feel her loss in my soul. I have to let her go, and pray it isn’t forever.
“Declan.” Connor’s voice causes my eyes to fly open, and I get to my feet.
“What are you doing here?”
He shakes his head like I’m an idiot for asking. “We came as soon as Sierra called.”
It’s been six hours. Six hours and just as many tests to try to figure out why Sydney is nonresponsive. They have no answers that tell what is going on, just that she’s not waking up.
She has brain activity, her blood sugar is normal, and there’s no indication of a stroke, but still, she sleeps.
“Right. Sorry. Of course. It’s just …”
“No change.”
“None.” I take a few breaths through my nose, trying to calm myself. I can’t fall apart now. I have to be strong, sure, and believe that Sydney will be fine. Whatever is happening can be fixed.
“Syd will wake up.”
I nod because it’s true. “People don’t just slip into comas, right? Not when there’s nothing pointing to why it could be happening. They wake up when they’re ready. For all I know, this is her way of punishing me.” I laugh humorlessly. “It’s working too, so she can feel good about this.”
“She’s not that cruel.”
“Isn’t she, though? She didn’t tell me about the baby until two days ago. Then she finds out there’s something wrong and she has a fucking tumor, but she doesn’t tell me.” Anger and
