Chapter Thirty
Juniper
The ride to the hospital is nothing short of torture. Zade keeps glancing over at me, probably wanting to say something, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. I’m barely holding it together, my thoughts spinning out of control with worry for Jacob.
The silence in the car is unbearable, with each mile dragging us closer to the hospital.
My mind races with a thousand different scenarios, none of them good.
The only thing keeping me from completely losing it is the rhythmic sound of the tires on the road, a steady reminder that we’re getting closer to the hospital, closer to Jacob.
Zade clears his throat like he’s about to say something, and I stiffen, not wanting to hear whatever it is he has to say.
But he stays quiet, and I feel like I’m suffocating, trapped in this car with my fears and regrets, with Zade and everything that he represents.
Every glance he shoots my way feels like it’s burning a hole in me, but I keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead, willing myself to stay focused on what really matters—Jacob.
When we finally pull into the hospital parking lot, I’m out of the car before it even comes to a full stop. I head straight for the entrance, my legs moving faster than my thoughts. Zade is right behind me, but I do n’t wait for him. I can’t afford to.
Dominique gets me to a room, and tests are run, and after that, I wait in the waiting area for the verdict. Whether I'm a match or not.
Hours later, Dominique comes and shakes her head, sympathy etched into her features. “Juniper, you’re not a match.”
I can’t believe it. I feel like the walls of the hospital are closing in on me. I feel lightheaded and stumble, but Zade catches me. “Juniper, you gotta stay strong.” He says, but it’s easier said than done.
“How is that even possible? I’m his sister!” I cry.
“It happens sometimes, Juniper. The genetic markers just didn’t line up.”
My vision blurs with tears. “But… What happens now? What do we do?”
“He’s on the donor list, but time is running out,” Dominique says, her voice heavy with the impact of the truth. “We’ll do everything we can, but...“
Her words trail off, but the implication is clear. Jacob might not make it. The tears spill over, and I bury my face in my hands, sobbing. The enormity of the situation crashes down on me, suffocating me with guilt and helplessness.
Through my tears, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see Zade standing there, his expressions are conflicted, but his presence is oddly comforting. “Juniper,” he begins, but I can’t take it. Not now. Not from him.
“Don’t,” I snap. My tone is raw and edged with pain. “Just… don’t.”
His eyes widen, hurt flashing in them, but he doesn’t step back. Instead, he kneels in front of me, his hands gently taking mine. “Juniper, I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen.”
“Sorry?” I laugh bitterly, pulling my hands away. “You’re sorry? Do you even understand what I’m going through? What Jacob is going through? This isn’t some game, Zade. My brother’s life is on the line!”
"I know that," he gets out, his words coming uneven. "I know. I'm trying here."
“Help?” I shout, cutting him off. “How can you possibly help? You’ve done enough, Zade! You’ve already taken so much from me and from my family. Just... just leave us alone!”
People in the waiting area begin to stare, their whispers buzzing around us like angry bees. I can feel their judgment and their disdain, and it only fuels my anger. “You’re just like them,” I hiss, pointing toward my parents, who are also there.
“Juniper, please…” Zade tries to reach for me again, but I step back, my entire body shaking with anger and despair.
“Get out, Zade,” I demand. My tone trembles. “Leave. Now.”
He looks at me, his face crumpling with sorrow. For a moment, it seems like he might argue, but then he nods slowly, his shoulders slumping. “If that’s what you wa nt.”
Without another word, he turns and walks away, the sound of his footsteps fading as he exits the hospital. I stand there, watching him go, a twisted emotions of relief and regret battling inside me.
The whispers around me grow louder, and I can feel the stares burning into my skin. My parents’ cold, accusing eyes are the worst. I want to scream, to cry, to disappear. But instead, I just stand there, frozen, the tears streaming down my face.
“There must be something I can do. Something. Please, Dominique.” I beg.
Dominique’s face crumples with sympathy, and she hugs me tight as I cry. I can feel her own tears falling onto my shoulder, her breath hitching as she tries to comfort me. “I’m so sorry, Juniper,” she whispers. “I wish there was more we could do.”
But there’s nothing more anyone can do, and that’s what makes it unbearable. The helplessness, the fear, and the knowledge that I can’t save him—it’s too much.
When I finally pull back, my face is wet, and my eyes are swollen and red. I wipe my cheeks with trembling hands, trying to regain some semblance of control. But it's of no use. The pain is too raw and too deep, and it feels like it’s tearing me apart from the inside.
I don’t know how long I sit there, staring blankly at the wall.
Time seems to have lost all meaning. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, and my emotions are a raw, bleeding wound.
All I can think about is Jacob—Jacob, who’s been through so much, who’s fought so hard.
Jacob, wh o’s always been there for me, who’s my rock, my everything.
And now, I can’t even save him.
I stand up on shaky legs, needing to put some distance between myself and the suffocating reality that’s closing in around me. “I... I need some air,” I manage, my words breaking.
Dominique nods, understanding in her eyes. “Take all the time you need,” she whispers.
I don’t look back as I leave the room, my steps quickening as I make my way down the hall. I burst through the exit doors. Outside, I gasp for breath, my hands trembling as I grip the railing of the stairs, trying to steady myself.
I sink to the ground, my back against the cold brick wall, and bury my face in my hands.
I don’t know how long I sit there, crying silently, my body shaking with the force of my grief.
My mind is numb, unable to process the enormity of what’s happening.
Jacob is slipping away from me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
“Please,” I whisper to the empty air, my voice hoarse from crying. “Please don’t take him from me. He’s all I have left.”
The tears come harder now, and I can’t hold them back.
I cry until I have nothing left, my sobs quieting to small, hiccupping breaths.
The sky grows darker above me, and I wonder how I’ll find the strength to go back inside, to face my parents, and to face the reality that Jacob’s time might be running out.
Eventually, I stand, my legs weak and unsteady. I wipe my face with the back of my hand, trying to compose myself as best I can. I have to be str ong—for Jacob, for Dominique, and for myself. I can’t afford to fall apart, not now.
I drag air deep into my chest, pulling myself together before heading back inside. The hospital’s fluorescent lights seem too bright and too harsh as I walk back to Jacob’s room. My steps are slow, and every movement is deliberate as I force myself to face what’s waiting for me.
The hospital halls are too quiet—the kind of quiet that amplifies every small sound, making my heart race even faster.
When I push open the door to Jacob’s room, my breath catches in my throat.
The bed is empty. The sheets are pulled back neatly, as if no one was ever there.
Panic floods through me, sharp and icy, and I stumble back, my mind spinning.
I burst out of the room and into the hallway, my eyes wild as I look around for any sign of him. A nurse passes by, and I grab her arm, all frantic. “Where’s my brother? Where’s Jacob?”
The nurse looks startled, then her expression softens with pity. “He’s in surgery, ma’am. They found a donor.”
My brother is in surgery right now. How did they find a donor so quickly? I don’t understand. But there’s no time to process it. All I can do is wait. Wait and hope.
The nurse guides me to a waiting area, and I collapse onto one of the chairs, my legs unable to hold me up. I look around, half-expecting to see Zade, but he’s nowhere to be found. But I have more things to worry about—my brother.
Hours pass in a blur o f exhaustion and fear. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I know, Dominique is gently shaking me awake. I jolt upright, breath caught in my throat. It takes a second to remember where I am. Everything’s too quiet.
“Jacob?” I whisper. It comes out rough—somewhere between hope and panic.
“The surgery was a success,” Dominique says softly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “He’s going to be okay.”
The words barely register before the sobs come crashing over me, a tidal wave of relief, guilt, and overwhelming emotion. Dominique pulls me into a hug, and this time, I cling to her like she’s a lifeline, my body trembling as I let everything out—all the fear, all the pain. Everything.
“Thank you,” I whisper over and over, my words muffled against her shoulder. “Thank you, thank you.“
After what feels like an eternity, I finally pull away, wiping my tear-streaked face with the back of my hand. My heart feels lighter, but there’s still a heaviness in my chest, something unresolved. “Can I see him?” I ask..
“Of course,” Dominique says, guiding me toward Jacob’s room. “He’s still unconscious, but he’s stable.”
I step into the room, my breath catching in my throat as I see Jacob lying there, pale but alive.
The steady beeping of the monitors is oddly comforting, a sign that he’s still here with me.
I approach the bed slowly, like I’m afraid that if I move too quickly, this fragile reality will shatter.
Taking his hand in mine, I press a kiss on his forehead, feeling the coolness of his skin against my lips.
“I’m here,” I whisper, my voice tinged with emotion. “I’m right here.”
As I sit beside him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, the events of the day replay in my mind, especially the moment when I lashed out at Zade.
The guilt gnaws at me, persistent and sharp.
He was trying to help, and I shoved him away.
He drove me here when I needed him the most, and I repaid him by pouring all my anger and frustration on him.
The memory of the hurt in his eyes stings, and I can’t push it away, no matter how hard I try.
He left, just like I asked him to. But instead of feeling relieved, all I feel is this hollow ache inside me.
It’s not satisfaction, it’s not peace—it’s emptiness.
As much as I want to tell myself that I’m better off without him, that I don’t need him complicating my life, I can’t ignore the truth gnawing at me.
“I didn’t mean it,” I whisper to the empty room, my eyes on Jacob but my thoughts far away. “I didn’t want him to go.”
The more I sit there, the more regret builds inside me.
I miss him. I miss the way he looked at me and the way he stayed close, even when I pushed him away.
I miss his presence and his stubborn determination not to give up on me.
He said he wouldn’t leave, and now that he’s gone, all I can think about is how wrong I was to push him away.
What if he’s really gone for good this time? The thought sends a pang of fear through me, sharper than I expected. I don’t want that. I want to see him again, to apologize, and to tell him that I was wrong. But he’s not here. He’s nowhere to be found.
The room feels colder and lonelier without him.
I realize, with a sinking heart, that maybe I’m not okay with his absence.
Maybe I need him more than I am willing to admit.
As I sit beside Jacob, holding his hand and watching over him, I can’t help but hope that Zade will come back and that I’ll get the chance to make things right.