Victorious Vice (Bellamy Brothers #6)

43. Raven

43

RAVEN

A fter what seems like an eternity, we finally have news from the doctor.

“Thank you for your patience,” the doctor begins. “The good news is, we’ve done extensive scans—MRIs, CTs—and there’s no sign of any major brain damage. His brain activity looks normal, which is reassuring. The bullet missed any critical areas, and there’s no significant swelling or bleeding that would typically explain why he’s in a coma.”

I pause for a moment, letting that sink in as I grasp Vinnie’s hand with desperation. My mother’s face is impassive. It’s all too much for her to bear.

“However,” the doctor continues, her voice softening, “despite those promising signs, he’s still in a coma, and at this point, we’re not entirely sure why. His body is not responding in a way we would expect, given the scans. There’s no clear medical reason for this level of unresponsiveness. It’s not unheard of, but it’s rare, and we need to explore all possibilities, including metabolic or chemical imbalances, or even psychological factors. Sometimes, after trauma, the brain can react unpredictably, almost as if it’s protecting itself, even when physically, everything seems stable.”

I swallow. My throat hurts. My head hurts. My heart hurts.

Psychological factors? I guess Dad would have to be in a bad place mentally to want to kill himself in the first place.

God, I hate this.

My mind keeps wandering back to that day years ago when I made him pancakes. The slimy-looking man in his study. Grandma telling me to remember that grownups make mistakes. That grownups have secrets, and sometimes it’s better not to know what they are.

Does that have anything to do with this?

“Right now, we’re monitoring him closely,” the doctor continues. “We’ll keep running tests, and we’ll do everything in our power to understand what’s going on and give him the best possible care. For now, what’s most important is that his condition hasn’t worsened, and that’s a positive sign.”

We all stare at the doctor in silence. She’s offered some comfort, but the big question—will our father wake up?—is still hanging in the air.

I can tell by the sympathetic look in the doctor’s eyes that she’s seen all this before.

She takes a deep breath and nods to each of us in turn. “All I can offer is patience. Recovery in cases like this can be unpredictable, but we won’t give up. We’ll take this one step at a time.”

I collapse back in Vinnie’s arms.

He runs his hands up and down my back. “It’s going to be okay, baby. We’ll get through this together.”

I look up at him. “Did you just say what I thought you said?”

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You said we’ll get through this together. You and I. Together.”

He squeezes me. “I didn’t misspeak.”

“So you’re done with this stay away from Raven for her own safety bullshit?”

He cracks a tiny smile. “I suppose I am.”

I wrap my arms around him, squeeze him as tight as I can. “Oh, Vinnie. I love you.”

“And I love you too, baby.”

And in this moment, perhaps the darkest my family has ever faced, there’s a small glimmer of something beautiful.

Hope.