Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
Oliver, Misha, Grey, and I stand in a tense semicircle around Mr. Donovan’s hospital bed.
The steady beeping of the monitor punctuates the silence, each sound a reminder of how close we came to losing him.
The sterile smell of antiseptic lingers in the air, mingling with the faint scent from the flowers Oliver placed on the windowsill.
But he’s awake.
He woke up an hour ago, and as soon as we got the call, we piled into the Tesla and raced to the hospital. Morgan has been here through the night and almost the whole day today, reassuring Grey that he didn’t have to be here, too, as long as Mr. Donovan was still unconscious.
She was exhausted but smiling when we handed over Peanut in the parking lot before she headed home for a few hours of desperately needed sleep.
Now, Mr. Donovan sits upright in the bed, his skin pale like the white sheets, but the familiar warmth in his eyes is undimmed.
He was lucky, if you can call it that, to have been here when it happened, surrounded by professionals who reacted in an instant to his stroke. Although it was severe, and he’ll likely face lasting paralysis in his left arm, his speech remains unaffected.
He’ll be here for a few more days while they run tests, adjust his medication, and start rehabilitation for his arm.
Despite everything, he seems to be in good spirits.
Morgan even mentioned earlier, that she’s taking this opportunity to learn everything she can from the professionals so she can oversee his recovery at home and keep up the rehabilitation exercises.
She’s determined to ensure Mr. Donovan makes a full recovery. He’ll rely on her now more than ever, and there’s a collective relief among us from knowing she’s here, ready to take charge and guide us through this.
“Make sure you’re taking Peanut out at least once a day, Grey. I don’t want all the responsibility falling on Morgan,” Mr. Donovan says a bit weaker than usual but still carrying that gentle authority.
Grey nods, his expression serious. “I already talked to her about it, and we’ll split it evenly.”
Mr. Donovan’s tired eyes crinkle in a small smile. “Good, good. Thank you.”
We all see the exhaustion creeping into his features. The conversation, brief as it’s been, has already drained him.
Oliver steps forward. “We’re going to let you rest now, but we’re just a phone call away if you need anything.”
“Day or night, don’t hesitate,” Misha adds with a smile.
“There are visiting hours,” Mr. Donovan protests weakly, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“Which doesn’t mean shit if you can give the security system a blackout,” Grey mutters under his breath, earning a soft chuckle from Misha and me.
“Boy,” Mr. Donovan chastises gently, though there’s a twinkle in his eye.
“Fine,” Grey grumbles, but a smile breaks through his feigned annoyance. “We’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll bring you some headphones and audiobooks.”
“And cake,” I chime in, earning a genuine smile from him.
As we start to gather our things, Mr. Donovan stops me. “Amelia?”
“Yes?” I turn back, noticing the unusual seriousness in his gaze.
Oh.
“Can I speak to you for a second?”
I nod when Grey comes to stand beside me, clearly reluctant to leave. Oliver and Misha exchange glances before quietly slipping out of the room.
“Alone,” Mr. Donovan says softly, giving Grey a pointed look. With a sigh, Grey finally relents and kisses my temple before he heads toward the door. Casting one last worried glance over his shoulder, he closes it behind him. When he’s gone, Mr. Donovan gives me a smile. “Come here, dear.”
I come to stand beside the bed, and he reaches out with his right hand to take mine, squeezing it. His skin is cool to the touch, and the small tremor of his fingers reminds me just how much he’s been through.
“How is Grey?” he asks, his underlying concern clear.
I consider sugarcoating my response but decide against it. Mr. Donovan doesn’t need comforting lies.
He wants the truth.
“He was pretty devastated yesterday,” I admit, feeling the weight of those words settle between us. “But I think we all feel a lot better now that you’re awake.” I squeeze his hand in return, offering what comfort I can.
Mr. Donovan’s eyes soften as he looks at me, searching my face.
“Amelia…” he begins but pauses, gathering his thoughts.
“I need you to look after Grey.” I open my mouth to protest, to tell him that Grey doesn’t need looking after, but he raises his hand, silencing me with the gesture.
“He needs you more than he’ll ever admit. ”
“He has you,” I argue softly. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Mr. Donovan’s expression grows solemn, the kind of seriousness that sends a chill down my spine.
“I felt how fragile life is when it can end in mere seconds,” he shares quietly.
“The only thing I could think about while the doctors were bustling around me and I couldn’t move was how Grey would cope without me. ”
My heart clenches at the thought, his words hitting me hard.
It’s not just Grey who would struggle to cope.
I know Oliver and Misha love him too.
And Morgan.
… I do too.
“Grey loves big, and he needs someone who loves him as much as he loves them,” Mr. Donovan continues.
“Who can handle his past. He has his friends, and I’m grateful for that.
But he needs someone special, someone who will always have his back, someone he can be vulnerable with.
He’s always the strong one for them. I’m the only one he allows himself to be weak with.
I need to know that he can be weak with you when I’m not there anymore to allow him a break from being strong. ”
Tears blur my vision as I hear the unspoken plea. “I will be strong for him so he can be weak,” I promise.
“Do you love him, Amelia?” Mr. Donovan asks, his gaze penetrating as if the answer to the question is the key to everything.
“I do,” I whisper, the words barely making it past the lump in my throat. “I love all three of them more than anything else.”
Mr. Donovan’s face softens into a gentle smile, one filled with relief and peace. He squeezes my hand again, this time with a little more strength. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he says softly. “Knowing that you love him back makes all the difference.”
With one final squeeze, he releases my hand and leans back against the pillows, a contented sigh escaping his lips. “Go on now,” he says, the faint smile still playing on his lips. “He’ll be waiting.”
I nod, blinking away the tears as I stand slowly, taking one last look at him. His eyes are already closing in exhaustion, but there’s a sense of calm about him that reassures me everything will be okay.
Walking out of the room, I find Grey waiting just outside, his anxious eyes searching mine. I reach out and take his hand. “He’s okay,” I whisper, and for the first time since yesterday, Grey’s shoulders relax just a little. “He just wanted to make sure I’ll look after you.”
Grey pulls me closer, kissing my forehead. “You’d do that?” he questions, smiling against my skin.
“I would do anything for you,” I answer truthfully, hugging him to me.
“Really?” Grey chuckles, “How about three meals a day and a regular sleep schedule?”
Fuck.
I pause. “Anything within the realm of possibilities.”
Grey chuckles as he lets go of me and takes my hand again.
We walk farther down the hallway, spotting Oliver and Misha waiting by the exit. Misha catches sight of us, and without a word, he extends his hand, fingers wiggling in an exaggerated invitation. I smile and take his hand in my free one, feeling the warmth of his fingers as they curl around mine.
“Of course, try to steal my girl.” Grey snorts softly beside me, shaking his head at Misha’s antics, but I catch the hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
“I’m stealing our girl,” Misha throws a glance at him, his smirk widening.
Their girl.
I smile at Oliver, who’s already smiling at me.
We make our way back to the Tesla and get in, the atmosphere growing somber again. The engine purrs to life, and Grey pulls out of the hospital parking lot. In the silence of the car, it seems we are all at a loss for words but then my stomach growls, making all three of them laugh.
One way to break the tension.
A quick glance at the clock tells me that it is indeed dinnertime.
“I’ll cook something when we get back,” Grey offers, his voice tinged with fatigue, but still he carries that unwavering sense of responsibility.
I glance at him from the passenger seat, noting the tired lines etched into his face. “How about we order something instead?”
Grey opens his mouth to protest, but then he catches the look on my face and sighs, relenting. “All right. But no pizza,” he concedes.
Misha leans forward from the back seat, resting his chin on the edge of Grey’s seat. “How about we get some Pho? There’s that place near Pike Place Market that delivers, and their broth is basically magic.”
Oliver nods in agreement. “Sounds perfect.”
“Princess? Do you like Vietnamese food?” Grey glances at me before his gaze goes back to the road.
“Absolutely.”
“Noodles it is, then,” he agrees.
Misha pulls out his phone to place the order. “I’ll get some spring rolls too. You know, for balance.”
“Remember to check for peanuts,” Grey mutters, and I shoot him an exasperated look.
As if I couldn’t check for them myself.
“Like I’d ever forget that,” Misha murmurs, tapping on his screen.
By the time we pull into the garage and make our way up to their apartment, the earlier heaviness of the day feels more like a dull ache.
“Are you going to hang out with us for the rest of the weekend?” Grey asks, the question casual but tinged with hope.
I smile at the invitation. “Yeah, I’d like that. But I’ll need to grab a few things from my flat first.”
Misha waves a dismissive hand. “Let’s eat first, then we’ll help you. No sense in doing anything on an empty stomach.”