Chapter 21 #2
“They're three minutes out. You're doing great. Just keep talking to him, okay? Let him know you're there.”
I set the phone down and grabbed Soren's hand, squeezing it hard enough that it should have hurt. “Baby, it's Rook. I'm here. The ambulance is coming. You're going to be okay. You have to be okay.”
His hand was limp in mine, and the wrongness of that — the complete absence of response — made my chest feel like it was caving in.
“I'm sorry,” I said, and my voice cracked. “I'm so fucking sorry for Montreal. For pulling away. For making you think you were too much when you were exactly what I wanted. I'm sorry, Soren. Please don't leave me. Please.”
The silence that answered me was the worst thing I'd ever heard.
I heard the sirens before I saw the lights, and thirty seconds later the paramedics were through the door. The 911 operator told me I'd done well and ended the call, and I stepped back to give them room and immediately called Talia.
She picked up on the first ring. “Did you find him?”
“Yeah.” The word came out rough. “I called an ambulance. You need to get to the hospital. Now.”
“Oh god.” I heard her breath catch. “How bad?”
“Bad. Pills everywhere. He's unconscious, barely breathing. Talia, I don't know—” I stopped because saying out loud that I didn't know if he was going to make it felt like giving up. “Just get there. I'll meet you.”
I hung up and immediately called my mom, and the second she answered I started talking.
“I need you and Dad to meet me at the hospital. Toronto General. It's an emergency.”
“Rowan, what happened? Are you hurt?”
“Not me. Soren. He's—” My voice gave out, and I had to take a breath to steady myself. “Mom, just get there. Please.”
“We're leaving now. Twenty minutes.” She didn't ask more questions, didn't demand explanations, just accepted that I needed her and moved. “We love you, sweetheart. We'll see you soon.”
The house was full of paramedics who moved with efficient urgency that made the situation feel even more real. They asked questions I couldn't answer, checked vitals I couldn't interpret, and loaded Soren onto a stretcher with movements that looked practiced and terrifying.
I followed them out to the ambulance, and one of the paramedics—a woman with kind eyes and steady hands—stopped me before I could climb in.
“Are you family?”
“No. But his sister's on her way. I'm the boyfriend.” I looked past her to where they were securing Soren's stretcher. “Please. I need to be there.”
She studied me for a second, and I saw her read the desperation on my face. “You can ride with us. But you need to stay out of the way and let us work.”
I climbed in without arguing and pressed myself against the wall while they worked on him. IV lines, oxygen mask, monitoring equipment that beeped in patterns I didn't understand. They were talking in medical shorthand that meant nothing to me, calling out numbers and terms that sounded urgent.
All I could see was Soren's face, pale and still under the oxygen mask, and his hand lying limp on the stretcher.
I wanted to hold it. Wanted to tell him I was here, that he wasn't alone, that he needed to fight. But the paramedics were between us, and all I could do was watch.
The ride to the hospital felt like it lasted hours and seconds simultaneously. Every bump in the road made me flinch, every beep from the monitors made my pulse spike, and the paramedics' controlled urgency made it clear that this was serious in ways I couldn't fully process.
We pulled into the emergency bay, and they moved fast, wheeling him out and through automatic doors that said “EMERGENCY” in bright red letters. I followed until a nurse stopped me with a hand on my chest.
“You need to wait here. We'll update you as soon as we can.”
“But—”
“Sir, you need to let us do our job.” Her voice was firm but not unkind. “There's a waiting room through those doors. Someone will come find you.”
She disappeared through the doors where they'd taken Soren, and I stood there in the hallway feeling completely useless.
The waiting room was too bright, full of uncomfortable chairs and outdated magazines and a TV playing the news on mute. I sat down because standing felt impossible, and my hands were still shaking.
He'd looked so small on that stretcher. So fragile. The Soren I knew was all warmth and energy and life, and seeing him unconscious and barely breathing had been like watching the world tilt sideways.
I pulled out my phone and texted Talia.
Rook
At the hospital. Toronto General. They took him back. No update yet.
Talia
10 minutes away. Is he—
Rook
Just get here.
My parents arrived first, both of them looking worried and slightly out of breath from rushing. My mom pulled me into a hug without asking questions, and I let myself lean into her for a second before pulling back.
“What happened?” my dad asked quietly.
“He overdosed.” The words felt mechanical, like I was reporting a game score instead of the worst thing I'd ever experienced. “I found him unconscious in his bed.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” My mom's hand was on my shoulder, grounding.
I couldn't look at her. “We had a fight. I said things I didn't mean and pushed him away, and then everything with his family got worse, and I wasn't there. I should have been there.”
“This isn't your fault,” she said firmly. “Whatever led to this, it's not on you.”
“Feels like it is.”
She didn't argue, just sat down next to me and kept her hand on my shoulder while we waited.
Talia arrived ten minutes later with Micah and Poppy behind her, all of them looking pale and scared. Talia's eyes found mine immediately.
“Any news?”
“Nothing yet. They took him back the second we got here.” I stood up to face her. “I'm sorry. I should have checked on him sooner. Should have known he was—”
“You found him.” She cut me off, and her voice was shaking. “You went when I called, and you found him in time. That's what matters.”
We sat together in the too-bright waiting room and waited for news that felt like it would never come. Minutes stretched into an hour, then longer, and nobody came through those doors to tell us anything.
Poppy was crying quietly into Micah's shoulder. Talia was staring at the wall with her jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping. And I was sitting there thinking about pill bottles and shallow breathing and the way Soren's hand had felt limp in mine.
I'd come to his house planning to apologize. To tell him I was sorry and scared and wanted to try again. I'd brought chocolate and flowers like those things could fix what I'd broken.
And instead I'd found him dying.
The thought of losing him—of never getting to say the things I needed to say, of never getting another chance to prove I could be better—made my chest feel like it was being crushed.
He had to survive this. Had to wake up and fight and give me one more chance to not fuck everything up.
Because if he didn't, I'd spend the rest of my life knowing that the last real conversation we'd had ended with me pushing him away.
And I didn't know how to live with that.