The Sound of Forever

Chapter 47

Chapter Forty-Seven

Julianna

Rayne’s skin burns beneath my fingertips, heat radiating like a furnace that doesn’t let up. Her fever has gripped her small body for three relentless days, leaving her pale, fragile, and trembling with chills I can’t seem to soothe. Her cracked lips part with a faint moan, the sound slicing through me, leaving me raw and helpless.

“You need to get her to the hospital in Seattle. She needs tests, fluids—she’s dehydrated, and this could escalate quickly,” the doctor says.

Hospital. Seattle. Escalate.

The words collide in my mind, destroying any sense of control I’d clung to. “Okay,” I manage to say, though my voice feels foreign, distant. “I’ll drive her.”

But the doctor shakes his head. “No. That’s too risky. It’s a two-hour drive, and she needs help now. We know of a transport service, but . . .” He pauses. “It’s costly.”

Costly. What does that mean? Expensive, as in I’ll have to sell my car to pay for it, or I would be in debt for the rest of my life? Not that it matters. This is the life of a child.

“I can have someone here soon,” Keane says, stepping forward. His voice cuts through the haze, grounding me, pulling me out of the downward spiral.

I turn to him abruptly. For a moment, I’d forgotten he was still here, lingering near the doorway like he didn’t want to intrude. He’s been in and out of the house for the past couple of days, bringing food, or keeping me company at night while I care for Rayne.

We don’t speak much, he’s quiet, but just by being here, present, it is enough.

“Who can you call?” I ask.

Keane glances at me, holding up his phone. “My brother. Rowan. He’s got connections in Seattle—he can make this happen.”

“But I can’t afford—” The words break free before I can stop them. My breath catches as guilt mixes with panic.

“We can,” he says. “Let me help.”

I open my mouth to protest again but close it just as quickly. There’s no time, no room for pride or hesitation.

Rayne stirs weakly, a faint cry escaping her lips, and I drop to my knees beside her. My fingers brush her damp hair back, the strands clinging to her flushed skin. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “We’re going to the hospital. You’re going to be fine.”

Keane steps into the room, speaking into his phone. “Rowan, it’s me,” he says, his words clipped and urgent. “I need your help. Rayne, my neighbor, is sick, she has to get to Seattle Memorial immediately. Can you arrange something?”

I strain to hear the response, my heart pounding. Keane nods once, then again. Relief washes over his features, and he exhales slowly. “Perfect. Thanks. I owe you big time.” He hangs up and turns to me. “There’s a helicopter already at Lavender Moon Farms. I’ll drive us there—it’s less than fifteen minutes away.”

Fifteen minutes feels impossibly long, but it’s better than the alternative.

“Thank you,” I whisper, clutching Rayne’s hand.

Keane crouches beside me, his gaze steady and unwavering. “We’ll get her there,” he says, his tone quiet but resolute. “I promise.”

I want to believe him, but the fear gnawing at me refuses to loosen its grip. “What if . . . what if it’s too late?” The question slips out before I can stop it, barely more than a whisper.

Never in my life have I dealt with a sick child. This is probably the scariest thing I’ve been through in a long time.

“It won’t be,” he says firmly, his presence unshakable. “Rowan’s arranging everything. A doctor will be waiting the moment we land. We’ve got this.”

I cling onto his confidence, because honestly, that’s all I have right now.

Keane moves with purpose, gathering what we’ll need without hesitation—a blanket, Rayne’s bunny, my bag. He hands me the essentials, pausing to make sure I’m keeping up.

When he returns to Rayne, he lifts her gently into his arms, her tiny frame pressing against him. She lets out a faint whimper, and he murmurs something soft and soothing, words I can’t quite make out but that seem to calm her.

“Let’s go,” he says, nodding toward the door.

I follow him, my heart racing as I clutch the bag and Rayne’s bunny, my fingers tightening around the worn fabric.

Keane secures Rayne in the backseat, his movements careful and deliberate. I slide in beside her, my hands hovering over her, unsure if I should touch her or let her rest.

“Hold on, sweet girl,” I whisper, brushing a stray curl from her cheek. “You’re going to be all better soon.”

Keane climbs into the driver’s seat, his jaw set as he starts the car. He glances at me in the rearview mirror, his eyes meeting mine with a steady determination.

“It’s going to be okay” he says, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Never in my life had I flown in a helicopter. Any other day I would’ve enjoyed the trip, but right now I’m just holding onto Ray and hoping this will pass soon. Thirty minutes after take-off, the helicopter lands on the hospital rooftop. Within moments, a team of medical staff rushes forward, with an efficiency I’ve never seen in my life. They whisk Rayne away on a stretcher, leaving me frozen in place as the doors swing shut behind them.

I should follow. I should demand answers. But my legs feel like they’re stuck in cement, my mind unable to catch up with the whirlwind.

“Julie.” Keane’s voice pulls me back. He’s standing a few steps away, watching me carefully. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” I manage to ask.

“The waiting room,” he states.

I let him guide me through the maze of hallways. The fluorescent lights overhead are too bright, and the sterile smell of antiseptic clings to everything. Keane stays close, his hand hovering near the low part of my back as though he’s ready to catch me if I stumble.

When we finally reach the waiting room, it’s eerily quiet except for the low hum of the vending machines and the occasional shuffle of footsteps. Keane gestures to a row of chairs, and I sink into one, my body slumping from exhaustion and worry.

“She’s in good hands,” he reassures me. “She’ll be running again by next week.”

I nod again, staring at the floor. “She’s all I have,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “If anything happens to her . . .”

Keane leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Nothing’s going to happen to her,” he says firmly. “She’s a fighter, just like her aunt.”

The words catch me off guard, and I glance at him, surprised. “You barely know me,” I say, a faint, bitter laugh escaping. “How do you know I’m a fighter?”

He meets my gaze, his eyes steady and unwavering. “Because you didn’t hesitate to do whatever it took to get her here,” he says simply. “That’s what fighters do.”

“Thank you,” I murmur. “For everything. I don’t even know how to repay you.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Rowan has connections. If not, I would’ve paid whatever you needed to bring her here.”

I raise an eyebrow, finally looking at him. “I’m pretty sure most people don’t have a brother with a helicopter on standby.”

He chuckles, a low, rich sound that momentarily distracts me from the gnawing anxiety in my chest. “Fair point, but it’s not his. Actually, you could’ve reached out to Nydia and asked for the helicopter. Her husband is the one who has it in case he needs it.”

I frown. “How was I supposed to know? Sure, he’s part of a famous band and . . .” Then I glance at him, because he used to be famous. “Is your brother in a band too?”

He glances at me, narrowing his gaze. “Why would Rowe be in a band?”

“I mean, you were famous, why wouldn’t he be?” I respond and then realize that I’ve told him what I know.

“You know who I am?”

I open my mouth and close it. “Nydia told me a couple of weeks ago,” I respond. “If not, I would’ve never known. It’s not like I was going to tell anyone—or ask you for an autograph.”

“They’re pretty valuable, now that I’m dead,” he says, and I notice the smirk.

“Oh, you’re joking.” I roll my eyes. “Since you didn’t seem like you want anyone to . . . I’m not sure, recognize you, I just never mentioned it.”

“I appreciate it. Back in the day, most people didn’t give me that choice,” Keane says quietly, his voice low, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “It was always about the music, the fame. They wanted something.”

“I don’t,” I say quickly. “Right now, I just want my niece to be okay. But with you . . . it’s fun to have you around, even when most of the time you’re brooding.”

His lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I know. That’s why I wanted to help. You weren’t looking for anything—you were just trying to keep her safe. And for the record, I don’t brood as much as I used to.”

“Thank you for bringing us here so fast,” I say again, instead of arguing about his broodiness.

Keane’s gaze flickers toward the hallway where Rayne disappeared, his expression thoughtful, almost distant. “You remind me of my mom—on her good days,” he says after a moment, his voice quieter now. “She was like that—fierce, protective. She would’ve done anything for me.”

I blink, surprised by the openness in his tone. He rarely lets people see any side about his past. “What happened to her?” I ask gently, not wanting to push but needing to know.

He hesitates, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee, the movement almost absent-minded. “She passed away when I was in a coma,” he says finally, his words clipped, as if saying them aloud still hurts. His shoulders sag.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “That must’ve been?—”

“Devastating,” he cuts in, the pain in his voice cutting me deep. “But not as devastating as waking up and realizing I’d lost five years of my life and . . .” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “My memory, among other things. It took months for pieces of it to come back.”

I reach for his hand without thinking, my fingers brushing against his. “I’m sorry for your losses,” I say softly, and I mean it. There’s so much he’s been through, and yet here he is, standing next to me, showing up when it matters.

Before he can respond, the door to the waiting room creaks open, and a nurse steps inside. “Ms. Valencia?”

I’m on my feet in an instant, my heart racing. “Yes?”

“Rayne’s stable,” the nurse says, offering a warm, reassuring smile. “The fluids are helping, and her fever is starting to come down. We’re running some tests, and the doctor will update you soon.”

Relief crashes over me, my knees buckling as I sag against the nearest chair. “Thank you,” I whisper.

Keane is beside me. His hand brushes against my arm, his touch light, but enough to remind me he’s here with me. “See?” he says softly, his voice carrying a quiet certainty. “She’s going to be fine.”

I look down at him, my eyes locking onto his, and the intensity in his gaze roots me to the spot. The world around us fades, the relief and exhaustion tangling together as he crouches so close I can sense the faint warmth of his breath. His hand rests near mine on the edge of the chair, our fingers just barely brushing, and for a moment, nothing else exists.

I can’t look away. His eyes search mine. The intensity in his gaze is hypnotic. The air between us thickens. His hand shifts slightly, the faintest brush of his fingers against mine sending a shiver up my arm.

“Jules,” he murmurs, his voice low, intimate, as if it’s meant just for me.

The way he says my name feels like a secret, like a thread pulling me closer. My breath catches as he leans in, his eyes dropping to my lips for the briefest of moments before flicking back to mine. He’s close enough now that I can see every detail—the faint freckles on his nose, the way his throat moves as he swallows, the barely restrained tension in his frame.

And then, he’s closer. So close I could lean forward and close the distance, could lose myself in the possibility of this moment. My heart pounds, every beat drowning out the rest of the world.

Just as his lips hover near mine, there’s a voice, “Keane.”

I jump, the spell breaking as I pull back, heat rushing to my face. Keane lets out a quiet exhale, his head dropping for a moment before he straightens, his jaw tightening.

“Hey, Rowan,” he says, casually.

Rowan strides in, oblivious or maybe not caring about the moment he just shattered. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says with a smirk, holding up a bag of snacks. “But I wanted to check on you guys.”

Keane stands slowly, glancing back at me with an unreadable expression before turning to Rowan. “Perfect timing, as always,” he says dryly, his voice carrying a touch of irritation that makes Rowan raise an eyebrow.

I sit back, trying to catch my breath and ignore the lingering electricity in the air. Whatever just happened between us leaves me frazzled and wanting, but maybe it’s better this way. We don’t need the distraction.