Embrace Me Forever (Hartley Brothers #3)

5. Georgia-May

5

GEORGIA-MAY

Coco-Rae rests in the hospital crib, her tiny chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm. It contrasts sharply with the turmoil within me as I await the full post-operation briefing.

What I know so far, after gathering extensive data from her original procedure, is that the doctors managed to devise a method tailored specifically for her. Using the latest advancements in pediatric oncology, they employed precision medicine techniques that address the tumor at its molecular level.

The door creaks open, and Dr. Thompson steps in. “Ms. Williams,” he begins, his voice low and measured. I brace myself. “The surgery to remove Coco’s tumor was successful. We were able to excise all of it, and we can confirm the cancer hasn’t spread.”

I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Relief floods me, but it’s short-lived as Dr. Thompson continues with the dreaded ‘however.’

“There have been some complications. The surgery affected her motor neurons,” the doctor discloses.

My body hurts as I gaze at Coco. Only her face is visible, and even then, bandages and tubes are all over her. The rest of her is tucked under the blanket. “What are the implications?” I ask.

“The damage to Coco’s motor neurons has caused weakness in her legs and affected her muscle control. Currently, she’s unable to stand or walk. Your daughter will require extensive therapy to regain full mobility.” He studies me for a moment, gauging my reaction. Then, as if deciding I can handle the full weight of his words, he continues, “I won’t downplay the situation. Her recovery will be challenging. However, given Coco’s resilience, I’m confident she’s up to the challenge.”

I swallow, trying to digest his words. My little girl, my sweet Coco, already facing an enormous hurdle at such a young age.

“How long will she need therapy for?”

“It’s difficult to say,” Dr. Thompson replies. “Every child’s recovery is different. It could take months, even years.”

My mind races, calculating the cost of such long-term care. I can’t believe how much money has already been spent. The bills have been piling up, each a reminder of the financial strain this has put on us. And now, to fund Coco’s therapy…the doctor doesn’t have to say it. It’s going to be astronomically expensive.

I think back to my meeting with the Hartley brothers when I offered them QEOPA. I should have asked for more money. But I’ve never been one to be greedy, and I believed what I asked for was more than enough. Now, that decision feels like a mistake.

Dr. Thompson places a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can to help Coco, Ms. Williams. There are resources and support groups that can assist you.”

“Thank you, doctor,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. As he leaves the room, I turn back to Coco, tears welling in my eyes. I stroke her hair, vowing silently to find a way to give her the best care possible, no matter the cost.

Coco stirs slightly, her tiny fingers curling around my thumb. I feel a surge of determination. For her, I will move mountains. For her, I will find a way.

The clock on the hospital wall ticks steadily, a cruel reminder of the hours slipping away, yet I haven’t come up with anything concrete. I haven’t heard a word from Hartley Marine—or rather, I haven’t had a chance to check. My business phone sits untouched in my Denver apartment, the one connection to that world left behind to maintain some semblance of isolation. It’s a lifeline I can’t afford to sever, yet I can’t bear the risk of carrying it with me.

My thoughts are interrupted by the familiar click of heels against the linoleum floor. Anne bursts into the room, her eyes wide with concern.

“What did the doctor say, Gi?” she demands, her voice sharp with worry.

“They’ve successfully removed the tumor,” I start with the good news.

“That’s fantastic.”

“But there were complications,” I reveal. “Her motor neurons…her legs are weak. She’ll need long-term therapy.”

Anne’s face crumples for a moment before she regains her composure. “We’ll get through this. But you look like you’ve got more on your mind. What else is going on?”

I hesitate, then blurt out, “I haven’t checked my business phone. I need to see if Hartley Marine has replied. I might have a chance to present more, get further payment. We need the money, Anne.”

She looks at me, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Then why the hell haven’t you checked it? This could be important, Gi.”

I bite my lip, my mind racing. “That number can’t be traced to here or your place. Besides, I don’t know if my cover’s been blown. My fake contracting stint at Obsidian Moon Interactive could have been uncovered. If they find out the truth, it’s only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down, but I can’t stop now. Not with Coco needing so much.”

Anne steps closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You’ve always been smart about these things. Check the phone, see if they’ve replied. We’ll figure out the rest. Let me get it for you.”

“No! The phone should stay in Denver. And you can never, ever go near that apartment, do you hear me?”

“All right, all right,” Anne says, her hands up saying ‘relax.’

“I just need to see if I’ve got a reply, and I can do something to securely redirect any future calls or emails.”

“Okay. I’ll watch Coco, and you do whatever you need to do,” she says. “Be careful.”

Even though my heart cries at leaving Coco behind, stepping outside feels like a dream after weeks of living within the hospital walls, weathering an emotional apocalypse. The sun warms my face, a stark contrast to the cold, fluorescent lighting inside. For a moment, I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh air, savoring the brief escape. But reality snaps back, reminding me that my errand is about more than picking up a carton of milk.

The city feels strangely unfamiliar after my time in the hospital. Every turn, every streetlight, feels like a small victory as I navigate toward downtown Denver.

A flicker of unease settles in my gut. There’s an old sedan tailing me. The driver wears a hoodie pulled low to obscure their face.

I make an extra turn, then another, trying to shake them off. But they stick with me, matching my every move. Panic builds. I need to lose them.

Taking a sudden right, I speed up, weaving through traffic with desperation and precision. My mind races alongside the car. Who could be following me? Was it Blake? The driver looks too small to be him. One of his minions, perhaps?

Or is it Cristo? The only time we met, he was in his hoodie, brushing past me in the crowd at Trafalgar Square, slipping me my new passport without even making contact. And from our last call, he was determined to keep his distance.

And then, of course, there’s Bertram. God, please don’t let it be him.

A sickness churns in my stomach. How can the whims of one man wreak such havoc on my life? Reducing me to a wraith, constantly haunted by fear?

I take another sharp turn, my tires screeching, and finally manage to lose the sedan in a tangle of one-way streets. Faced with too high a risk, I abandon my trip. Instead, I double back toward the hospital, my pulse still racing.

Back in the hospital parking garage, I stop and rest my head against the steering wheel. My thoughts swirl in a chaotic mess, trying to piece together the puzzle of who might be after me. I’m playing a dangerous game, and the stakes have never been higher.

As I re-enter the hospital, the sterile air and familiar sounds bring a strange sense of comfort. I’m back in the one place where, for now, I feel somewhat safe. I head to Coco’s room, my steps quickening with anticipation.

Anne asks, “All done?”

I shake my head. “Far from it. Someone’s following me.”

“Shit! What are you gonna do?”

“We’ve got time,” I reassure her—and myself—while mentally calculating how long the remainder of my initial pay will last. “I’ll figure something out.”

The moment I step inside, I see Coco’s tiny body stir. It’s as if she senses my presence, her eyes fluttering open slowly. Her cry starts as a weak wail that quickly shifts into a smile as she sees me.

Tears prick at my eyes. She’s the strong one, and I’m the one crumbling. Her resilience is both inspiring and heartbreaking.

“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, brushing a kiss on her forehead. “Mommy’s here.”

She coos, her little hand gripping my finger. The world outside this room may be falling apart, but right here, in this small space, I find a fleeting moment of peace.

I sit by her bedside with my sister also standing guard, watching my baby drift back to sleep. I’m going to stay a few nights with her, but I can’t ignore the outside world forever. I need to resume my business with Hartley Marine. There’s too much at stake to let fear cripple me. I have to be smart about it.

My mind starts mapping out a plan, strategies forming amid the chaos. For Coco, I’ll face whatever dangers lie ahead. She needs me to be strong, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure she gets the future she deserves.